It has to be a trend
by Epic Hero Laugh
Summary: The most awesome case of deja-vu ever leads to a discovery of epic proportions. And how could Prussia not help the little gender-confused American? Honestly England, Hungary and America have more in common than you thought... Fem!America hiding her gender throughout history. Lots of bro moments and laugh attacks. Rated for a bit o' bad language.
1. Is this a fact?

**It has to be a trend **

**I apologize in advance for my historical inaccuracy. I know it's gonna be somewhere in here.**

**I don't own Hetalia. If I did, America and Canada would be geniuses that constantly trolled the whole world.**

…

Prussia was watching young America closely. The poor little guy was a colony of that totally un-awesome Brit. But was America awesome? Prussia needed to know. He had a list of all those awesome and all those not awesome. No unknowns were allowed on the Great Prussia's awelist.

"England," America whined quietly. Prussia crept closer. "I got growing pains."

Prussia didn't miss the flash of worry across the Empire's face.

_Ha! He's worried little America will be bigger than him. _

"It's 'I have growing pains.'" England corrected.

"England, I have growing pains again." America looked expectantly up at him.

Prussia watched as the Empire casually tried to see if his colony was getting taller. Evidently not, as he stepped back, patted the child on the head with a word of comfort and an instruction to be good, and stepped into the meeting room.

The meeting was soon to start. Time to mentally prepare for a boring meeting where nothing got done and he couldn't show his pure awesome for fear of frying pans. Well not fear. NEVER fear. Just, well, fear.

America however, was not to be allowed in the meeting. The young child leaned on the wall outside the door, rubbing his chest and looking dejected and worried.

_Woah, awesome case of Deja-vu. He totally reminded me of... Hungary. Mother of boobs is he a girl?!_

Prussia took a closer look at the child. He grabbed America's little chubby face in his hands, thrusting the eyes up to meet him.

"Hey mister! That's not very nice!" The child's legs dangled beneath him (her?).

What an unusual accent.

"I don't have to be nice, I'm Awesome."

The little colony tipped his (her?) head to the side, pulling Prussia's hands along for the ride. "What's awesome mean?" _What the hell was wrong with the British Empire?_ Either way, much as he hated to admit it, the awesome would have to come later. There were more important things to think of now. _Shudder. _

"You'll be getting a thorough lesson in that later," Prussia ground out. America tried to nod and then stayed still while Prussia inspected the child's face.

America bore a striking resemblance to Finland. He had eyes the color of the wide open sky and short golden hair. But the eyelashes up close... Holy shit they were long! How had he passed herself off as a boy with those lashes?

_Hungary has very long lashes,_ he reminded himself.

The child's hair was cut messily, as if she'd done it herself.

Due to that fact that British Empire is never with her, she probably had.

And due to the fact that she was in male clothing, it was likely that the Empire didn't know either.

Prussia hated to admit it, but he was gonna need backup.

"What are you doing sir?" America asked.

Prussia realized that he still had the girl's face in his hands. He set America down.

"Seeing if you are worthy." Prussia put his hands in his pockets.

"Am I?" America was hopeful, so very hopeful.

Prussia grinned a little. "Somewhat. I have things to discuss with you later, little girl."

America's eyes narrowed. "I'm not a girl. You aren't a very nice nation at all."

So she truly thought she was a boy and wasn't hiding consciously.

"My apologies little BOY."

America smiled a wide grin that stretched across her whole face. "Glad that's cleared up."

"What's wrong? It's not good for someone kinda awesome like yourself to be sad." Prussia swallowed his pride and asked.

America's face set into sadness. "I think I'm getting sick," She whispered.

_Whoa! Double deja-vu!_

"Doesn't the meeting start now?" Her voice jerked him out of his thoughts while her thumb jerked at the door.

_Shit. _

…**.**

Hungary didn't have time to deal with Prussia today. Well, technically she had time, but she really didn't want to. Therefore it irked her when the albino leaned over and whispered something she couldn't understand in her ear.

"What?" She whispered back, watching Spain, France, and England arguing in the corner of her eye.

"We've got a little colony in the same position you were in."

_What did that mean?_ Hungary sent him a look that asked the question, and Prussia sighed.

"I think she believes you grow a veiner-veeny thing as well."

Hungary froze. Who would that be? Was she being made fun of? She looked at Prussia suspiciously.

"Who?" She whispered back as England laughed maniacally.

"America." His breath was hot in her ear, and he pursed his lips and pushed air out, popping her ear.

"Fuck you," She whispered, clutching her ear. "America? There's no way America's a girl. England says he rolls around in the dirt, gets into a lot of fights, hikes through the forest and, and," She had done all those things and more in her youth.

Crimson eyes eyed her merrily. "Take a long look at the kid."

Wow, if that were true, America would need some sisterly guidance. And clearly there was no one better than Hungary.

So when they all breaked for lunch, Hungary glanced at the young colony. And froze.

America really was a girl. She could tell. Sisterly instinct. Hungary glanced at England.

"Come along, lad." The Empire clapped his hand on the colony's shoulder.

Clearly England had no clue that America was female.

But wasn't America a very large country? America would have a tough time in the future. If she even chose to hide it. Lord knows Hungary had entertained the idea.

"England," Hungary greeted him smoothly. "And you must be America."

America nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! I am!"

"Hush," England looked disapprovingly at America. "It's not proper for a young gentleman as yourself to behave as such."

Hungary made a face at America when England turned around to straight her jacket.

America giggled.

"Gentleman do not giggle."

Hungary adopted a mock-stern face and shook a reproving finger. America held in a laugh, biting her bottom lip.

England turned around and Hungary immediately stopped, adopting a completely innocent expression.

America grinned wider than the horizon.

"I'm surprised you brought young America with you," Hungary commented.

"He expressed his desire to come many times. I figured it was about time he showed himself to the world properly." England sniffed. Hungary took that lovely little speech to mean that America had begged persistently to come.

"You won't have any time to sail back with him." Hungary pointed out, knowing full well that England was far too busy to sail all the way to the New World and back.

America looked to England, alarmed.

"I'm afraid I won't. Thank you for reminding me Hungary." Well that was a bitter thank you.

"Not a problem," Hungary smiled sweetly.

America looked quite distraught.

"I have to sail back alone?"

England sighed. "I'm afraid so."

America turned on her heel and simply walked away. "I'm going to explore. Have a good meeting."

"Don't you want food?" England called desperately.

But America did not respond.

Inside, Hungary was squealing. America was exactly like Italy! Except she actually was a girl... But they were the same size and had little adorable high voices. _So cute!_ She wanted to put little America in a dress so badly.

"Have a good day Miss Hungary," England nodded before heading back into the meeting room.

Prussia immediately appeared out of thin air, slinging an arm around her shoulder.

"Girl?"

"Girl."

"I toldja so."

"Let's just go find her," Hungary grumbled, trying to ignore the all-knowing smirk on the stupid nation's voice._ Idiot._

And so it was that the two nations found America looking out the window at the rainy streets of London, singing to herself in French.

**"Frère Mathieu, frère Mathieu**

**Dormez-vous? Dormez-vous?**

**Sonnez les matines! Sonnez les matines!**

**Din, dan, don. Din, dan, don."**

They exchanged raised eyebrows before approaching the gender-confused young Colony.

"America?" Prussia asked.

The colony turned and grinned happily. Hungary swore the sun brightened a little outside.

"Prussia, Hungary!" She exclaimed, then took on a worried expression. "I mean, hello Mr. Prussia, greetings Madam Hungary. It is a pleasure to see you both again." She bowed her head slightly.

"None of that," Hungary nearly laughed at her. _The British Empire really loved his formalities. _

"I rather like Mr. Prussia," Prussia mused, stroking an invisible beard.

"You are not a Mister by any stretch of the imagination." Hungary announced.

America stifled a laugh.

"Can I talk to you for a moment?" Hungary asked gently.

"Sure!" America stood up and accidentally knocked over a table.

_Shit that kid was strong. _

…**.**

Prussia was impatient. Now, he generally was, but now it was magnified.

_Verdammit, how fucking long does it take to explain to a girl that she's a girl?_

Of course, right when he was about to drag them back to him, the two girls appeared.

_You have no idea of the magnitude of the bullet you just dodged she-male. _

America was pale.

"So what's the verdict?" Prussia asked.

"I'm going to be a boy." America announced.

And from the stubborn set of her face, a conspiracy was born. Or the world's greatest prank.

…**..**

**This is what happens when I'm bored-as-hell at a swim meet. I can leave it as a one shot or continue. I should probably be working on 5hour, but France is hard. He's crazy enough already. So I'l probably just leave this as is unless someone says something to the contrary. :D **

_**Hey, I just wrote this,**_

_**And I'm kinda lazy/crazy**_

_**This story is lonely.**_

_**So review it maybe**_


	2. Bandages and Boston

**You are Welcome. There is another chapter here! It Has to be a Trend is no longer a oneshot. YAY!**

**I don't own Hetalia.**

**Previously on It Has to be a Trend. **

_"'You won't have any time to sail back with him.' Hungary pointed out, knowing full well that England was far too busy to sail all the way to the New World and back._

_'I'm afraid I won't. Thank you for reminding me Hungary.'"_

America didn't want to sail back alone. That much was clear from a single glance in the lad's eyes. And England didn't like seeing America sad.

But it had to be done. He was an empire, and he really didn't have time to sail to America and back. But he was so small. America hadn't grown very much from when he'd chosen England over France.

And the journey was surprisingly enjoyable. America was enthusiastic, joyous to be going back home. It was infectious. England couldn't help the smile on his face as he watched the little colony try to find sea monsters.

They landed and England stayed just long enough to witness America's next growth spurt. At least it was easier leaving behind an eight-year-old than a two-year-old.

But it was with a heavy heart that England waved to the little boy standing on the shore as he sailed back to his own.

**...ooooOOOOoooo...**

**Back to after the meeting**

**...ooooOOOOoooo...**

"Hiding awesomely in Eyebrow's un-awesome house~~~" Prussia sang from his position under the table in the dining room.

"You are a total idiot. Get up," Hungary came out from behind a chair and muscled him to his feet, pushing him forward.

"Hi," America nodded to them, walking into the room and greeting them completely naturally as if she knew they'd be there.

Their mouths fell open in surprise. "How did you-?"

America gave a smirk that, even if Prussia hadn't known the girl for long, could tell was rarely seen. "I'm a bit smarter than England you know."

Hungary swept her into a hug. "You're so adorable!" She squealed.

America sent a "help me" look towards Prussia.

"Kesesesesesese," Prussia laughed. "You're on your own."

"How un-awesome." America said, toddling over to Prussia and attaching herself to his boot after Hungary put her down. "I have a new favorite spot. You can carry me."

It was Hungary's turn to laugh. "Oh, have fun." She giggled.

Prussia moved his foot. America was heavier than expected, but not too heavy for the awesomeness that was himself.

"Hang on." Prussia lifted the girl up normally, not by her head like last time. "Stand for a moment." He instructed.

America looked confused, but did as told.

"Yep, you grew a little," Prussia confirmed.

Indeed, America's face looked a little older, and she was a bit taller already.

"How fast do you grow?" Hungary asked in amazement.

"It depends," America shrugged. "I can feel a growth spurt coming though! Then I'll be big and strong like England and I can be the hewo!"

"Awwww!" Squealed Hungary.

And even if America was technically a girl, the look she exchanged with Prussia was equally as confused. _What is _wrong_ with Hungary?_

_**...ooooOOOOoooo...**_

_**Back to after England totally just got up and left**_

_**...ooooOOOOoooo...**_

America was sick and tired of being small. She could feel the land that should be hers. Stupid France and Spain._ The land is mine. Mine, not yours. _

But there was an intsy weensy problem. Growth Spurts. She'd really been looking forward to being tall, but she had forgotten something rather important. The fact that girls were different than boys. Which meant that she had a chest. _Do not want. It was just too big. _Poke. Poke. Poke. Alright she was done.

Should she write a letter to Hungary? No, probably not a good plan. It would take too long.

_I am America. I'm way effing smarter than all of you, and I can figure this out by my effing myself. _

_Options. Maybe like, bandages or something? _

The general store would definitely have some, but she couldn't go dressed as she was. One, her hair wasn't cut, and two, she'd grown quite a bit since yesterday. _Hang on, hadn't there been an indentured servant here?_ Her face crumpled in concentration. _Yeah, from Ireland._ That'd been from many years ago, even longer than England had been gone.

Chapped lips pursed as America wondered if there was a chance the nice woman had left a dress somewhere.

_Worth a shot._

If one had been a small mouse up in the attic of one Alfred Kirkland, one would have been in a prime position to view the "America" on it's hunt for clothing.

Note the pretty eyes, blue as the cloudless sky. A head turns back and forth, and the hair seems to change colors. Don't become too transfixed, but don't miss the action. Gold. Amber. Gold. Amber. Gold. Amber. Stop staring at her head.

Eyebrows narrow at a box in the corner, and the wild America stalks toward it, a satisfied smirk appearing on the pink lips.

"Aha!" And the America is triumphant.

...

_What. The. Mothering. Fuck. Is. This._

America was so confused. "The hell?" She asked herself. America studied the article of clothing for a bit longer before realizing.

_Oh God Save the Queen these are stays!_

"Alright stays. A battle of wills will now commence!" America announced. She knew enough about dressing herself to figure out that the shift went under the stays, but the main problem was tying the stays. They wouldn't tighten properly.

With a face screwed up in concentration, America pulled. Hard. The ribbon snapped.

"Dammit!"

Grabbing another ribbon from England's hair accessory bin, America set to work, controlling her strength a bit better.

"Suck it losers! The hero does it again."

_Oh great. Let it be written in all the great history books that the first thing America conquered was women's underclothes. _

Slipping the dress on over her head, America pulled her hair back into a ponytail with a small piece of ribbon and fixed a cap on her head. A cloak went around her shoulders and the young woman stepped confidently into the street.

_How should I speak? Softly? Probably._

The bell dinged as America stepped into the shop.

"Can I help you?" The storekeeper's apprentice was at the counter writing in a ledger, but he put it down at the sight of a customer.

"I need some bandages." America said, concentrating on keeping my voice softer and higher than usual.

"How much?" He smiled pleasantly. _He was kinda cute. Wait! WHAT? Where the hell did that come from? No boys America. Not when you yourself are posing as one. Wow that thought had whammed her harder than a horse's hind legs!_

Paying for the large amount of bandages quickly, America left the store, sprinting home and gaining horrible dirty looks.

_Well fuck you too._

"Alright Alfred," America said to herself, taking a deep breath. Somehow the whole thing seemed so much more real now that she was actively hiding.

Why was she even bothering?

_Her mother. Blood. Screams. Smoke "Go! Go! Leave! I'll be fine!"_

But her Unitsi wasn't fine, or she would have found her. Native America would have come back. But the lands Native America used to stand for now were her's and Canada's. Their very existence had ended her mother's. The only comfort America could get from that was that her Unitsi wouldn't have made a different choice if she had been given one in the first place.

Unitsi was glad to die for her children._ And I am proud to be her daughter. She didn't fade just so that her children could be controlled. _

And America pulled off the dress, binding her chest tightly.

Now for the hair. Glaring into the looking glass, America was pleased to note that she really did look masculine. Hair pulled into a ponytail was how some men kept their hair, but she would need to cut it off at the risk of being too feminine.

**Snip. Snip. Snip. Snip. Snip.**

A man looked back at her.

"Wow," She breathed, turning her head this way and that.

~One month later~

"America, I've come back just like I promised!" England knew that he'd been gone for a long while, but it wasn't his fault. He'd worked hard to become an Empire, but the amount of work it would take once he had it was rather unexpected.

A fifteen-year-old boy glomped him. "England Dude!" He exclaimed.

It was America. England froze. America had somehow grown into a tall and muscly young man. America's grin was maniacal and bright blue eyes smiled mischievously at him. "I missed you so much," America said in a slightly softer voice. England didn't think he'd ever heard such a strange voice. It was annoying and something was slightly weird about it. _It must just be the accent. _

...

England managed to stay for a year before he had to leave. America was sad to see him go, but very glad at the same time. England had been acting kinda weird, and had been very controlling. The amount of tax he was imposing was making her physically ill. She took a last look around the Virginia Plantation she'd lived in her whole colony life and patted the door. It was time to head to Boston.

**March 5th, 1770**

America was pissed as she cleaned up the cut on her shoulder blade. This was unacceptable. It had been horrible. A chill went down her spine. It had been a _massacre_.

...

**June 9th, 1772**

That had one a bit overboard. America looked disapprovingly at the men who had looted and burned Her Majesty's ship the Gaspee. She may not approve, but Alfred knew that she wouldn't give them up to England. She would protect them.

...

December 16, 1773

"Throw it in boys!" America yelled, rubbing her hands for warmth in Boston's snappy winter air.

"I'm older than you Alfred," A man called back, but he listened nonetheless, tossing a large box of tea overboard.

America cheered. This was awesome! She'd never felt so, so, so FREE! She would be free, and she would be her own country, no longer a colony. _Sorry Britain, but you can't control me forever._

…**.ooooOOOOoooo….**

TADA! I wrote another bit. Sorry, it's kinda choppy and short but hey, it's an update. It seemed to be popular opinion that I should continue this, so I come bearing words put in an appealing order (I hope). I had more, but it wasn't in anything remotely close to chronological order, and was written like it was. Oops.


	3. Bittersweet Victories

_**Bittersweet Victories**_

_Patriot thoughts_

Loyalist thoughts

**Date **_person thinking (assume it's America if not otherwise indicated)_

**Section Title**

Hey guys, I recorded a little song for this fic. Here! :/ www .youtube watch?v=FgW6_9FejQE&feature=plcp

Yes I am well aware that I sound horrible, but I had a sore throat. I'll record something nicer later. Maybe.

**WARNING: Extremely Patriotic thoughts, but what did you expect? PLUS! Lot's of "Swearing for effect". That means bad words guys. Which is why it's rated teen. And America hears voices, Prussia returns, Poland wants a cavalry, Spain accidentally gets turned on, and France… France just wants to punch England in the eyebrows. Just once. I think you readers can handle it. Hetalians are made of tough stuff. **

**Also, I don't own Hetalia, just thought I'd put that out there.**

**Double also, this is NOT a romance story. Don't be fooled.**

…**.ooooOOOOoooo….**

_The gilded cage of the America-bird._

_The little blond eagle was misunderstood._

_She didn't want war, she wanted representation._

_But then battles were fought in the bright young nation._

_Rights weren't being granted, so America decided_

_To declare independence so she couldn't be blindsided._

_Hoped that would be the end,_

_But then friend turned on friend._

…**.ooooOOOOoooo….**

**April First, 1774, ****Boston Harbor is MINE**_America_

_This better be a fucking joke._

_My harbor. MY HARBOR. Not yours England. Not yours you back-stabber. Betrayer. Traitor to-_

She was the back-stabber. She was the betrayer. She was the traitor. Her. Me.

Well she should be angry at any rate._ He closed Boston Harbor! _Now she couldn't feel part of her back and her right arm felt numb._ So not cool. This is going to end in bloodshed, isn't it? I don't want bloodshed, I just want rights. _

That I technically shouldn't get anyway. I'm a girl.

But now she was very angry._ I have half a mind to sail to England and punch the wanker right across the face, stupid British man. _

But she was technically British wasn't she? Who needs more independence anyway? I'm perfectly content under England. I'm his colony, it's my duty to obey him. He's my big brother, and he knows best. He already gives me plenty__of freedom.

_NO! I want rights! I want to be able to make my own decisions! _

No, I'm a British colony. I shouldn't try to be free. I should be respectful. I answer to England.

_I don't want to be free, that was merely a moment of madness. I honestly just want a say in how my affairs are run! I'm happy staying under him, but I want proper representation._

I get enough already. I don't need representation, England is doing the right thing for me. He's always right.

Damn. She hated loyalists. GTFO Tories. Go to Canada or something._ Stop shaking my resolve, I want more rights._

No I don't.

_Yes I fucking do. Now shut the hell up and become a minority!_

**1775 ****Lexington and Concord Well, mainly Lexington**

Oh, so now she couldn't trade?! _How dare he. I'm pissed beyond words._

"Leave me alone," America hissed at Paulie. She was apprenticed to the silversmith. He was a pretty chill guy and she felt kinda bad for hissing at him. She was leaving soon, and didn't want to part with him on a bad note. For America knew the Redcoats were coming. She knew it as surely as the sun rises in the morning that there was going to be a battle. Technically her country had been to battle before, but she'd never been allowed to fight in it before.

She moved to Lexington. It was the place. America knew it would be here. Her first battle.

And one morning, she woke up to Paulie screaming about redcoats coming. America shot out of bed and pulled on her "uniform", joining the other 76 minute-men prepared to fight for America- for HER! And damn, didn't that just make her feel special!

The Redcoats were shocked to see them. America smirked but couldn't help but notice that England wasn't there.

And then she fired the shot heard round the world.

..

(A/N I'm pretty sure it was a British gun that was fired first (by accident actually), but let's face it, this America _would_ shoot first, even if she didn't want war.)

..

**Johnny Jones at your service**

_Fuck Yeah I'm in the army. Suck on my non-existent American balls England. Whatcha gonna do? Whatcha gonna do, huh?_

_I need to think of other things while training._ America looked down at the poor soul in front of her. She had nearly sliced off his head with an inexperienced swoop of bayonet. _Oops._

"Supper! Come and eat."

America collected a bowl of soup and wondered where to sit. She'd already scared the absolute shit out of half these men with her strength, and it hadn't even been half a day. Plus they didn't know she was their country, so it wasn't like they would be falling over themselves to be friends with her. Not that she wanted them to.

Spotting a boy sitting alone on a moss-covered log, America approached him. He looked about fifteen, same as her, though of course she was far older. He was Scottish, she could tell her citizens' origins with a glance. _Oh, that's strange. Most of the Scottish are on the other side._

"Hey, mind if I sit here?" America asked.

He jumped and looked up at her, suspicion in his brown eyes as his red hair glinted in the fading light.

"With me?"

"No, I'm talking to the invisible kid next ta ya." America said. _Damn, whenever she analyzed another person she would talk a bit like them for a while._

He cracked a grin. "Johnny, Johnny Jones. Go ahead and sit"

America did so. "Pleasure to meetcha Johnny. I'm Alfred Kirkland."

"Where are you from Alfie?" Johnny asked.

"I've spent most of my life in Virginia, but I moved up to Boston a couple years ago." _Not true, but the truth would freak this kid out._

"I was born here in Boston, but my parents are Scottish."

"Cool. I've always lived in America, but my brother's in the British Army. Pretty high up too."

Johnny looked at her, an expression of pity on his face. "You're fighting against family?"

"No, I'm fighting for myself." She said.

Johnny didn't ask for an elaboration. America didn't give one. The two, both too young to realize what would come, sat and looked out over the camp, talking and laughing and getting to know one another better. America learned that Johnny was an only child after his mother had died in childbirth with his younger sister when Johnny was five. He ran a farm with his father and was an excellent cook with a wonderful imagination and an interesting sense of humor.

The night fell and the fireflies danced through the air, swirling in patterns only they knew. America traced the paths with her eyes and swallowed the lump in her throat, remembering England's fairies. They would only come when England was gone. They weren't here now. England's presence was still here. And America didn't mind, she wanted some comfort. But America did mind the way his presence lingered in her resolve, and the way it curled and darkened in the corners, far from the bright yellow of the center. She loved her big brother, but he had far too much say in her life. She knew she could be trusted to handle more than he let her. But he wouldn't even give her that chance to explain that.

….

**1775, ****The Battle of Bunker Hill **

They worked long into the night fortifying the hill. America looked bleary-eyed up at the hint of rising sun in the East.

"Come on Alfred," Johnny tugged at her sleeve. "We need to get some rest if we want to be able to fight later."

America nodded and her eyes closed into a sleep full of hammers and tea leaves.

….

Her eyes snapped open. It was time. She got dressed quickly and looked out on the English camp. One of the soldiers was staring in open-mouthed awe at the now-fortified hill. He spotted her and shook himself before presumably going to find his General. All she could do at the moment was stand and watch.

**"Don't shoot until you see the whites of their eyes!"**

America passed along the message. "C'mon men, if we shoot too early, we'll run out of ammunition. Don't shoot until you see the whites of their eyes!"

Johnny passed it on, and soon the message had reached all the American soldiers. The line of red advanced and America smirked, tugging at the brown hunting shirt that blended her into the side of the hill.

_Looks like being the humble one in the family will finally pay off. Minus Canada of course._ Thinking of Canada, her people were invading his lands. She didn't like it, but there wasn't anything she could do. No one would listen. Just like England never did. And that was why they were in this mess in the first place.

…**.**

The battlefield was bloodstained and covered in bodies. Mostly British ones. She passed what looked like the soldier from earlier and bile rose up in her throat as her thoughts went Loyalist. She managed to struggle back somehow, but if this went on for much longer she'd end up surrendering.

MY OWN PEOPLE!

_Not mine. His._

All of us are united under the same flag!

_I should get a new flag for my own to fly alongside it. With stars. I like stars._

I should stay with England! He raised me.

_No, my Unitsi did._

But the savage is gone now. I can live as I was meant to be, a proper British colony. 

_I was meant to have rights. And if I can't get rights, I will have freedom. And she was my mother, not a savage. _

Oh gosh, I'm a traitor. The scum of the earth. A betrayer.

_I just want to be represented. No taxation without representation. I'm not doing anything wrong. I'm not. _

"Hey Alfred, it's okay. We didn't win, but we proved ourselves worthy of their time! We won't just be shoved aside as a quick little uprising!" Johnny's voice sounded like it was coming from the end of a long tunnel. America shook her head and her thoughts righted themselves.

America felt powerful now. Johnny was right. They hadn't won, but she had proven herself worthy of rights. She had just proven to England that she could take care of herself. She reached up and grabbed Johnny's outstretched hand, pulling herself up.

"What do you eat? Rocks?"

America smirked._ In a technical sense, I do weigh so much because of rocks, but definitely not the way he thinks._ "No, just horrible British food."

Johnny gave a little laugh, somewhat subdued due to the carnage around them.

America had a good feeling about the next fight. She might even win.

…_._

**First months of 1776 ****Battles**

She had seen blood and gore far beyond what most "her age" had. She had felt the aches in her chest as cannons fired. America had watched, through blue eyes covered by waterfalls of blood from the cut on her forehead, horrors beyond Earth as she struggled to stand up. *And this wasn't even a war. She didn't want to see what a true war would look like.

….

**July 4th, 1776 ****Happy birthday. Soon...**

America nodded at the sheet of paper that declared her freedom. She wasn't so naive as to think that England would simply accept it, but right now she didn't care. It was a peaceful declaration of her freedom, and she liked it. She didn't want these battles, she just wanted the rights that were being denied to her. And she would only get those by being her own nation.

"Are you alright America?"

It was Tommy. Well, Thomas Jefferson because she wasn't really supposed to call him Tommy. "I'm all good Thomas. Worry about the Declaration being fully signed."

He looked her over skeptically.

"Really, I'm fine. Just a little worried about the reaction. It's supposed to be peaceful, but I'm worried it'll start something even bigger. Maybe even a full-fledged war."

"You should be." Benny said seriously. "Because it very well might."

"Yes sir Mr. Franklin sir!" America snapped to attention, bringing a smile to some of the other's lips.

"Where do you get your energy?" Asked Tommy in amazement.

"I'm America." America smiled. "I don't run out of energy."

"If only I could be a young man again," A man muttered.

"Sir, with all due respect, I'm a couple hundred years older than you. True story." America clapped him on the back then nodded to Tommy and Benny. Flashing a small grin she hurried off to meet General Washington so she could get back where she should be. On the tear-stained battlefield of blood, fighting for her rights. No, that was wrong.

Now she was fighting for her independence.

_And I will not accept failure._

….

**Winter, 1776 ****How cold can you go?**

It was cold. That was all America could properly process. Fear and snow froze her to her bones as she was forced to huddle with the other men so she wouldn't die. By Christmas, none of them figured it out, thank god, and the experience shared by those who survived brought them closer as a group. America would put her life, had she technically had one, on the line for any of the other soldiers. America finally started to relax a bit, knowing that things could only get better from here.

Then why did that knowledge feel incorrect?

….

_Don't freak out. Yes, he has New York City, but I'll get it back. I just have to sail across this cold as fuck river to Trenton. Delaware river, if you tip me over, I will come and haunt you in the afterlife! Because I will have brought you with me._

The river really was "cold as fuck."

Johnny made dramatic, exaggerated, and extremely obnoxious chattering teeth noises. America gave him a look.

_You moron, we're trying to be sneaky!_

He just flashed a grin and put his back into rowing.

_Asshole._

But they did it. Georgie had just pulled that plan out of nowhere and it had actually worked! _Looks like we might possibly stand a chance._

**1777 ****Noses break?! Since when?!**

Another victory for America nearly drove the British out of New Jersey, but America was too worried to be very happy about gaining a little bit of feeling back in her spine. _What if I lose?_

"I can't believe we lost that fort!" America was fuming.

"Give it a break, it was only one fort." Johnny said. They were all tired and weary, and so his voice came out sounding rather mean. However, America had been living with the kid for a couple years now, and so she wasn't too offended.

"You're right, it was only one fort. We're Americans, we'll be fine. Americans always turn out fine."

"America doesn't have it's own great mindset like that. As Americans we are part of too young of a country to have any sort of identity." Johnny was rambling, but each word hit America like a tidal wave. Who even was she? She was just thirteen colonies, but was she? _Who am I really? I'm not European, I might not even technically be American for much longer. What is this war going to make me? _She hugged her arms to herself tightly.

"We're British, but we have Spaniards and Frenchman and people from so many different countries that we're more like a meeting place for people to learn about the world than an actual country, and-"

"What did you say?" _He did NOT just call me a meeting place instead of a country._

"America is still a little group of separate colonies. We aren't a country, and I have to wonder if we ever will be. We aren't going to win. Maybe I should have followed my countrymen and been a loyalist. At least then I wouldn't have to worry about-"

…**.**

General Washington rubbed his temples. "Why?"

"He was sitting there insulting me and claiming that he should have gone and been a Tory! What was I supposed to do! He said I wasn't a country and that I was a meeting place. It was like he had no respect for me whatsoever. Even if I didn't tell him who I am, he should still have had an instinct not to insult me like that." America crossed her arms defiantly.

"That's no excuse to punch him across the face. You broke his nose!"

"I also broke a nail while doing it, but honestly I'm not too fussed."

General Washington did not look happy.

America raised an eyebrow. She didn't have a boss, he couldn't touch her. He wasn't able to punish her through the military because of her status as Personification. She was untouchable physically and he couldn't do anything to her mentally either. Just a lot of stern glares.

"What if he has bandages on his nose the next battle and he can't see properly. Or maybe a British soldier will accidentally bump his nose and his eyes will tear up. They'll take advantage of that weakness."

America's eyes widened. _Maybe he can get to me. I need to get better control of my temper._

/OOO\\\

"Johnny?" America called.

"Yeah?" Johnny waved to her, nose bandaged but with a grin on his face.

"I'm sorry about your nose."

"I was the one being a bastard. You've got nothing to be sorry for."

"Thanks, but I probably should've watched my temper better."

"I won't argue with that." Johnny gave a smirk, eyes lighting up. "My mum sent a care package, want a sweet?"

"I won't argue with that." America sat up in the cot with him, ripping off a bit of cake and closing her eyes to savor the flavor.

"Mind sharing your mom?" She asked.

Johnny laughed. "We're practically brothers anyway. Why not?"

America grinned. Johnny was a great brother-from-another-mother.

_But he's human. He's not going to live forever._

\\\OOO/

France was a blond guy with blue eyes and a stupid-looking bit of chin-stubble. He met her own eyes enthusiastically and shook her hand politely.

"Hello young America." He said. There was a small gleam in his eyes that spoke volumes of his true purpose here._ England._

_Even when I'm fighting a war to be free of him, there's always something that has to remind me of him more. If these stupid reminders weren't here, then maybe I could pretend I was fighting for something else._

_But if I was fighting for something else, then I wouldn't fight as hard. What I truly care about is freedom. I will be free, and I will be better than everyone else, just to prove that I can be._

_America will be number one. Did I just think in third person? Or am I talking about my country in general? Hmm maybe I shoul..._

…**.ooooOOOOoooo….**

**Yankee Doodle**

The war wasn't going well for America. The British were definitely better prepared and stupid England's war experience was slowly crushing her. Thankfully France was finally in an official alliance with her, and she still had Spain, but she wasn't sure if she could win regardless. Her camps were disgusting and she had no idea how to properly run a war. America joined the men around the campfire and speared a potato on her bayonet. Johnny poked her in the face with a carrot stuck to the end of his own bayonet. She gave a small smile as she wiped the juice off her face.

"Johnny Jones,

He's a scoundrel,

poked me with a carrot!

I'm gonna steal his shoes one night,

And throw them in a pile of shit!" America sang to the tune of Yankee Doodle.

Johnny's mouth opened up and he stared at her. The other men laughed hard and America grinned, pleased with herself.

"You sing like a young girl." Johnny said, staring at her.

America tried her best to act puzzled. "As much as I adoooooore the compliment Master Jonathan," She drawled in a fake British accent, "I'm going to…"

Johnny gave her a nervous glance. America exchanged a mischevious look with Steven, who was behind Johnny.

"TICKLE YOU!" America and Steve attacked him and Johnny fell to the ground, convulsing with laughter.

And Johnny's remark was thankfully forgotten.

**1778, ****Sound the American (Please NOT Pony)Cavalry**

"Ponies! They'll shoot right over our heads!"

America looked interestedly at the nation in front of her. Johnny was stifling laughter on her right and she shot him a look that he missed as he was looking at Poland. Poland had just arrived to meet with Casimir Pulaski, one of his counts and America. The two wanted to establish a cavalry unit for the Continental Army.

"Let's go for it! We have plenty of horses!" America exclaimed.

"What about Ponies?" Poland asked.

_I like him._ America decided. _He's funny and kinda cute. SHUT UP BRAIN!_

I don't know if that would work," America replied in Polish. "If I can remember correctly, England is a bit shorter than me. No use putting myself right on his level."

Poland and Pulaski laughed.

"Horses." Poland agreed. "Let's go with horses."

Poland went off to set up his things and Johnny leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Since when do you know Polish?"

America just laughed. _Since when do I know Polish?_

**Winter of 1778 **

**Awesomeness arrives at the way-too-cold and really gross Valley Forge**

"Baron Von Steuben has arrived. Prussia is with him, and he will be personally training you." George was acting very serious, but America only heard one word. Or name to be exact.

"Prussia! Where?" America bounced.

Washington just pointed.

America tackled him and Prussia caught himself before he could fall.

…**. **_Prussia_

_Wow, she's even stronger._

"Hey, miss me?"

America elbowed him very lightly. "Yes," She muttered. "You're a much cooler big brother than England."

_Not very hard to beat him, but I'll take what I can get._

Prussia lifted her up and spun her around fast. America shrieked with laughter.

"Put me down! Put me down! Put me down!"

Prussia just laughed and America was introduced to Von Steuben. She greeted him with her best manners and he looked her over carefully before going off with Washington.

_What the hell is she wearing?_ America's once black but now more brown-gray breeches were torn at the knees and covered in spots of dried blood. Her shirt was torn at the sleeves and her shoulder was probably more covered in bandages than her chest.

"Don't you have any other clothes?" He asked.

America gave him an mildly amused look that didn't look right on a country as young as her. "Do I look like I have other clothes?"

There was a lot of work to be done here.

_But I am the Awesome Prussia. Nothing can take me._

But he didn't take into account exactly how bad America was doing. The snow piled over everything and there were parts of the snow that stuck up strangely in the dilapidated camp. Everything was haphazard and unorganized. It comforted Prussia a small amount to see that America didn't like it any more than he did.

"What are those?" Prussia asked, pointing to the oddly shaped lumps in the snow.

America blushed a bright red and looked disgusted. "Bathrooms."

_Holy friggin shit!_

"I really need help Prussia. Really really. I can't keep living like this, and I'm going to loose, and I-"

"-Shhh." His brotherly instinct flared and Prussia hugged her closely. Even underneath the heavy smell of war, there was a faint scent of wildflowers, fresh mountain air and open plains. "I can't leave my little sister all alone now. Don't worry, we'll get you, all of you, cleaned up and shit free."

She looked like she debating internally whether she should slap him or not.

"Shit meaning England and his merry crew of lobsters."

America hugged him back, looking close to tears. "Thanks Prussia."

"Not a problem. But you're going to have to call me Gilbert here. It's my human name, Gilbert Beilschmidt."

"Mine is Alfred Kirkland."

"Kirkland?"

"Yes."

"We're going to have to change that."

"Not now."

Prussia frowned but didn't argue.

**Early 1778 ****MISSter I'll Make a Man out of You**

"Let's get down to business." Prussia started.

America nodded rapidly. Other men were looking at the two strangely, as it wasn't every day that a random soldier got pulled aside by the Prussian general's assistant.

"I'm not going to lie, you guys are some of the saddest bunch I've ever met, including you. But there's a touch of awesome, and you can bet before I'm through with you, I will bring that to the surface."

His eyes were glinting at the prospect of honing raw awesome into professional awesome. America just nodded in agreement. It seemed easier that way.

"Right, what should I know first?"

"You need to be calm on the surface and raging within."

"Check."

"You need to find your center."

America made a "WTF" face.

"Don't look at me like that. You need to know yourself in and out, or you'll never be a successful fighter."

"Check someday I hope."

"You can't be spineless, pale, or pathetic."

America wisely chose not to comment on the fact that he was friggin albino.

"Anti-check."

Prussia paused, confused. "Do you mean that you-"

"-I'm not any of those. Or at least i don't plan on it."

Prussia nodded approvingly. "And the last thing Alfred."

"What?"

"I'm going to make a man out of you."

America gulped slightly.

"Get down and give me ten push-ups for every one of your colonies."

America's eyes widened.

"You heard me."

America began, then felt a pressure on her back.

And she thought it would be hard before Prussia decided to sit on her back. Asshole.

When America finished, not even out of breath, Prussia furrowed his eyebrows in thought.

"Here's what I want you to do…"

….

When America stumbled to the campfire, dirty and welt-covered, Johnny and Steve looked up in alarm.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm going to die. Gilbert is going to kill me. I'll be dead before I see my next battle."

"He's working you fierce hard, isn't he?"

"Looks like it," Steve said when America didn't reply.

"Yeah. Get me some food, will you?" America groaned.

**Battle of Monmouth, June, 1778 **_America_

"Fuck, it's so hot."

America frowned. "It's not usually this hot this far north. It wouldn't be too unusual down south, but it _is_ pretty hot for up north." _Shut up Prussia._

Prussia groaned. "I don't like it."

"We're in the middle of a battle, will you two shut up?!"France smacked them both in the heads. "Stupidés."

"Hey, I resent that!" Prussia scowled at the soldiers in red, firing off a shot and downing one of many.

America took a shot and crouched low to the ground again to minimize her target.

"Hola!" Spain joined them in their position behind a tree.

"Hola," America greeted back.

"You boys need some water?" A voice called.

"Finally," Prussia muttered. He was hit with three hands. The woman with the water smiled a little amused smile, getting them some water. They gulped it down gratefully.

"Thank you Miss-?"

"Mary. Call me Mary."

"Thanks Mary," America called after the woman before taking careful aim.

…**.**

A tie. At least she didn't loose. But she still didn't win either. And there'd been a lot of people lost.

"Hey Alfred," Johnny called.

America turned to see her best friend walking towards her all smiles and tattered clothes. "Hey Johnny. Sorry we haven't talked properly in a while. Gilbert's training me to the bone."

Johnny waved a hand. "I know. It's not a big deal. We'll always have each other''s backs, right?"

"Of course silly." America patted the spot next to her and he sat, leaning back to look at the stars above. She joined him, and somehow the stars seemed so much brighter and numerous, as if all the fallen soldiers had become entwined in the sky. She nodded up to it just in case and a particularly bright one winked down at her.

"Why are you being specially trained anyway?"

"Well, about that. There's something you should know about me."

"What?"

America turned to look at him; she needed to tell him about nations with eye contact, but Johnny was beginning to change. Slowly the blood in his face disappeared and his eyes went dead. Blood blossomed on his chest and his eyes closed as he thudded to the ground, leg at an odd angle.

"Johnny!" She screamed. "Dammit!"

And then she fell into the real memory.

….

_"Thanks Mary," America called after the woman before taking careful aim._

_"Hey!" Johnny rushed over the battlefield to slide, just in time, into the space they had made in the trees._

_"So Johnny, how are you fairing?"_

_It was their talk on the field. It put things into better terms than "Who's dead now?"_

_"I'm fine, Steven's not."_

_"Fuck."_

_"Pretty much."_

_"Let's head there," America ordered to her group, pointing to another group of fallen trees._

_"You go that way, I'll take these two over there," Prussia jerked his head in the opposite direction, towards a cannon where a man had fallen. Mary appeared out of nowhere and fired the cannon._

_"We'll help her, you two go over there," Spain ordered._

_"Si Antonio." America motioned to Johnny._

_The two dashed and made it to the other trees. America turned to Johnny to make sure okay when she realized he wasn't._

_Johnny had a look of utter shock on his face. He'd been shot in the chest. Blood. America couldn't comprehend. Johnny had to be fine. Why was his uniform turning the color of England's? **_He's in my regiment, his uniform isn't supposed to be red, we wear blue shirts._ America opened her mouth to tell him so._

_"Johnny, we're in the same regiment. You're supposed to be in blue."_

_Johnny gave a wheezing laugh. "Alfred, look at me."_

_America met his eyes, pain-filled and brown._

_Johnny met her eyes, pain-filled and blue._

_"Win." He whispered. "You were a brother to me. I shared a sense of kinship with you that I've never had with anyone else."_

_"Dammit, stop speaking in the past tense Johnny!"_

_He smiled slightly. "Alfred, you were the best friend I ever had." He gave a horrible hacking cough, falling fully down on the floor, leg at an odd angle. "I love you and want you to win this war. I can hear the bells of liberty Alfred." His eyes were becoming darker, the spark that made them whole in undeniably Johnny beginning to leave._

_"No, Johnny, don't you dare close your eyes. I love you, you're like my brother!" Tears pricked her eyes and her heart fell as a gun of grief shot her in the same spot as Johnny had been injured, just above the heart. She oh-so-gently touched Johnny where the bullet had pierced his chest and he didn't even flinch. He was nearly gone, she knew it in her heart. A canon went off in the distance but she didn't even flinch even as a new cut began to form on her shoulder. _

_"I'm not closing my eyes silly. Alfred, you were meant to win this war. You need to win." He used the last vestiges of his strength to clutch the front of her shirt. She grasped his hands with her own blood-tipped ones, feeling the life draining from her brother-in-all-but-blood's very fingers. _

_"I'll do my best Johnny."_

_"That's all I ask. I'm so tired Alfred, and it's so cold. Can I close my eyes now?"_

_He sounded so much younger than he is, like a little child tucked in bed away from nightmares. It broke America's heart, but she whispered, "You probably should Johnny. One day we'll meet again."_

_He chuckled."No we won't. Don't let me be forgotten Alfred Kirkland."_

_"Jones." She said. "Alfred Jones."_

_"Alfred F. Jones," Johnny corrected with a small, hitched laugh._

_"F?"_

_"For Freedom." And then he closed his eyes and all she could do was stand and watch until his breathing relaxed and then suddenly, it was gone. _

_America hugged him one last time and placed a kiss on his cheek. Pulling out a small version of her flag she laid it down over his wound. She bowed her head for a moment then wiped her tears._

_"Freedom." America stood. "I am Alfred Freedom Jones. I am going to destroy you."_

_And with a roar of rage, she burst out from behind the trees and took off down the field, leaving her innocence behind to die next to her best friend._

**December 1778 **_France_

"He has Savannah." Spain said. The four countries were meeting in a tent reserved for them.

"I. Noticed. That. A. While. Ago." America said through teeth gritted in pain. The British capture of Savannah Georgia had given him a large cut right across the small of his back. He would have trouble moving properly until they were out. _Poor child._

"No need to be snippy." Prussia raised an eyebrow. _I've been snippier over lesser things. I'm rather impressed at his fortitude._

"Shut the fuck up bastard." America scowled.

Spain's eyes lit up. _Please__ not today Spain._

"I want him off my land now and I want to be free. Every single goddammed day I sit around on these stupid cots while we go around and around in circles! I want him out! I want him out. IwanthimoutIwanthimoutIwanth imoutIwanthimoutIwanthimoutI wanthimoutIwanthimoutIwanthi mout!"

"I've got him," France muttered. "I raised his brother, I know how to calm him down."

"Let go of me! I swear to fucking god Francis if you don't put me down right fucking now I'm going to cut off all of your fucking gorgeous hair and bake it into a cake which I will then serve to the fucking bison so help me god! And they'll shit out your hair and I'll slice of your vital regions and re-bake everything into one of England's fucking scones and feed it to the fucking moose way up fucking north! Put me the fuck down! Put me down!"

Soldiers stopped to stare at the spectacle that was France carrying a crying and broken America back to his tent but they went on with their lives after a vicious pair of angry blue eyes stared them down from above a profanity-screaming mouth. One soldier that stared a bit too long got a long and intensely descriptive cussing out on his mother's virtue. He turned a vivid shade of red and glared at the man next him, who had a small smile threatening the corners of his mouth.

"Shhh. Papa's got you." America struggled to get away from France, but he held him tight and, just as he had done with Canada, stroked his back and hair until he fell into sleep. Poor thing was covered in bandages, they went all around his chest and everything.

America woke up a little while later, surprising France when he threw his arms around his waist and held on tight. "I'm sorry," America muttered, and he sounded so perfectly heartbroken that France felt a little piece of his own break off.

"It's alright _mon petit lapin_." France assured, smoothing down his hair and kissing the top, just next to the cowlick.

And France gave America all the time he needed to cry himself out and took a look at him. Tears clung to the boy's lashes and his lower lip was chapped and raw from the salt that had dripped into it. His eyes were read rimmed and his forehead was blotchy.

"You needed that."

America hiccuped. "I think I did."

**July, 1779** _America_

America hissed as the nurse cleaned up the two burns on the back of her neck.

"Sorry sweetie, it's nearly done."

"Aw shit." America resisted the urge to jump up and swipe away the woman's hand as a particularly burnt part was gently brushed. "Sorry ma'am."

"I've heard worst." The lady smiled down gently at her. "Especially those Scottish ones that we get. Well, you're all done little one."

"Thank's ma'am." America's heart sank. _Johnny did like to swear._

"Not a problem."

Prussia was there as soon as she stepped out of the tent.

"How are Fairfield and Norwalk. They're in Connecticut, right?"

"Yes. And strangely enough they're still burnt to the ground since you asked me a few minutes ago."

Prussia looks at her expectantly.

"Sorry," America scratches the back of head, feeling very contrite. "I just want this war to be over and done with. I just want to be free now."

"I know. But we have to continue unleashing our awesome fighting skills on those un-awesome redcoats."

America smiled. "Let's go." Savannah, I really need you back. My back hurts with you occupied by the British.

**Oh Savannah, I'm going to cry for you. We got totally crushed, we're really bummed and it's all because of you.**

_We lost. Badly. I'm sorry Johnny, I'm not sure I can win this for you. But I'll try my best. Despite what you say, I know that we Americans have an identity. One Day we will be known as the ones who win, the ones who never back down. One Day, we will be the bad and the good, a beautiful mix of cultures and we won't have to learn from our own mistakes because we can look to the ones who made them before us. One Day, I will be a strong country, full of pride and peace, where everyone is equal. One Day I will be big enough to make big mistakes, and learn from mistakes no one else has ever made before. And maybe, just maybe, One Day I'll be able to be a woman. But not yet. Not for a long time. But One day, I will be able to walk out my front door in a skirt with long pretty hair and not feel inferior. One day._

**Winter 1779,** **How cold can I go? Apparently a lot fucking colder!**_ Spain_

"Wow America, it's really cold here!" Spain exclaimed, falling into a snow drift.

"No _merde_ genius." France sniffed, his white military uniform blending in perfectly with the snowy background.

"Play nice," Prussia said, slapping them both on the head.

"How are you holding up?" Poland asked America where they were walking together.

"I'm good." America was pumped. I can do this! I will win!

"So, Hungary told me a very interesting story about you," Poland said casually.

"What?!"

"We're Biffles! You can't except us to actually keep secrets from each other!"

"What exactly did she tell you?"

Poland studied her. "How about a deal. When you decide to show your true gender, call me up and I'll bring help you pick out clothes."

"Thanks," America hugged him tightly.

And they trudged through the waist-high snow together after the other three, who were bickering about what the word "Bastard" meant.

America happily joined in.

**The '80s 1780s XD**

**May, 1780**

They were loosing. Stupid England was getting better while she was just getting more battered and beaten. We were crushed in South Carolina.

**June, 1780**

HA! Tories lost, we won, tories lost, we won, tories lost, we won! North Carolina, you are an awesome colony. I like you.

**July, 1780**

More Frenchies! They're handy little things, aren't they?

**August 6, 1780**

Yeah! We on a roll biatches!

**August 16, 1780**

Never mind. We just fucking lost again. South Carolina is officially an un-awesome colony. I still love you, but I'm highly disappointed. I should stop spending so much time around Prussia. Gates is sure a damn coward. We could have won! We had larger numbers! But noooooo. He just HAD to run off the battlefield. It was slaughter out there!

**Benedict Arnold is a Bastard-ict Arsehole**

What a jerk! That. That. I can't even find the right word to describe him! He was going to betray me! How dare he! At least we caught him. Thank god for that. We're already doing horribly anyway. No. You know what?! I am doing awesome! He has more experience and a better army and I'm holding my own. If we had the same amount of experience, I'd have already won! And maybe I'll get some beginner's luck!

**October 7, 1780 ****AKA my new second-favoritest day of the year**

_That is now the definition of kick-ass. It only makes sense that the definition was first demonstrated on American soil._

"Woah."

America nodded agreement. "You can say that again."

"Woah."

"I didn't mean literally."

Prussia smirked. "I know."

"Did that really just happen?"

"Yes America. Yes it did. W just won that battle there in sixty-five minutes."

"Holy shit."

"Holy shit indeed. Now mind your language."

"You're one to talk."

**January 17, 1781 ****Cow-shit covered guns. It's a new American delicacy. It tastes like victory. And cow shit. And guns.**

_We won again. I like this very much. The South is now nice again._

"I hate you." France commented to America. They were sitting around a campfire, just the four of them. Poland had long since gone home, and the nations were laughing and joking.

"Why?"

"Because my uniform is now covered in merde." France sniffed. "It's disgusting."

"You're covered in shit?" Spain's hair was coated with the stuff. A redcoat had stuffed his head into the mud. Spain had screamed like a small girl, and the soldier was long gone. America nearly shuddered at how callous she had become.

"It's the Bull Shit Trio!" America burst out laughing.

"Fuck off," Prussia muttered. "You're Amerishitca."

"Prusshitia, Shitain, I mean Shit-spain, and Franshit."

"I am not a shit-stain!" Spain shrieked.

The camp echoed with laughter for a long while after that.

**1781**** January-October**

The rest of the year was filled with a great push forward. America knew in her heart that the fate of the entire war wouldn't be decided with battles. It would be decided between her and England.

**October, 1781 ****Bittersweet Victories**

The battle was fast and furious, and suddenly she saw him. England. He looked the same, if a little worn.

_Did I cause that?_ Her heart fell a bit._ Wait, who cares?_

He spotted her, and his eyes went right over her, not even recognizing her. That's not too surprising. I've grown up quite a bit.

She went back to back with Prussia as the English soldiers pressed forward. England spotted Prussia, and he searched for her. His eyes fell on her for a second time and he was nearly shot while staring at her in shock. Yeah, she'd grown quite a bit taller and was now nearly as tall as Prussia, but America didn't realize how much her internal changes had changed her appearance. Her blue eyes betrayed only anger and hurt as she fought and a tear fought it's way out of her eye as she turned to impale someone on her bayonet.

...

Panicked hours of fighting, moving, and constant fear for her life culminated in this very moment for this battle.

England stood across from her, a few soldiers behind him, and America glanced back with her peripheral vision to see a few soldiers of her own.

There was blood rushing in her ears, and the words burst out before she could let him speak first.

"England! All I want is my freedom! I'm no longer a child, nor your little brother!" And America, in that moment, knew. 'You need to know yourself in and out, or you'll never be a successful fighter' Prussia had said. And America knew. She was America, and she was going to be free. "From now on, consider me Independent!"

England stared at her. There was heartbreak in both of their eyes. And suddenly he rushed towards her, hitting her gun with the tip of his bayonet. In an experienced flick of the wrist, her gun went flying.

"I won't allow it." England said, breathing heavily. America looked at him in surprise, slowly and carefully flicking the knife in her sleeve into her hand. "You idiot! Why can't you follow anything through to the end?!"

_But I am following this through. I'm going to be independent._ But she didn't say anything, just looked at him. He wouldn't hurt her. England wasn't going to hurt her beyond what he had already done.

"Ready, aim!" One of the soldiers behind her called. The bayonet was rather close to her face now, but America wasn't worried. She would be fine, and she would be independent.

And she was correct. England lowered the gun. America made sure not to change her expression.

"There's no way I can shoot you." England said in a tear-coated voice. "I can't."

_I knew it._

England tossed down the gun and sank to his knees. "Why?! Dammit why?! It's not fair!"

It was never fair England. "You know why." And England did, she could see it in his face. America felt bad for a second. He truly didn't know how to interact otherwise. But her urge for freedom outweighed her pity.

England began to cry. America didn't like seeing him cry, but there wasn't a thing she could do. All she could do was stand and watch. But her mouth betrayed her and she asked the question she wanted to know the answer to. "What happened? I remember when you were great?"

England crumpled in further, and America could only stand. Stand and watch.

**History Lesson time!**

*America didn't consider itself at war until the British retaliated after the Declaration of Independence was sent to them. In case you didn't know. Well, the more you know *Thumbs up and obnoxiously bright grin*

**Not all Americans wore blue in the Revolutionary War. At the beginning, their color was brown. While this changed, each colony had a different uniform. Or at least most of them did. I have them in a Maryland regiment Continental (Excuse my bullshit sticking names together)uniform, which would be the familiar US army uniform of that period with a simple blue shirt and different colored breeches (basically pants, FYI). The reason the blue outfit with the white "X" is so well known as the official uniform is because it was associated with the Continental line infantry as well as the Whig party. Many Patriots were part of the Whig political party, and thus the blue uniform was known. And the official color of the French military at that time was white, not blue. Blue didn't come until after the French Revolution. Anyway, many members of the Continental Army wore blue, green, black, grey, brown, buff or red uniforms. So technically, some Patriots wore red coats.

And yes, I skipped over the Articles of Confederation. You would rather read about battles. I know you Hetalians :D

**History Lesson done!**

My head cannon is that America and Canada were raised by Native America before Europeans came into the picture. I also think that the Loyalist part of America is warring with the Patriot part of America, and the neutral side sometimes comes into play.

I'm truly sorry if some of this isn't historically accurate, but I did my best. The information is basically a mix of Wikipedia, timelines, and everything I've ever been taught about the Revolutionary War. And since history is written by the victors, teachers tend to gloss over some of the less glamorous stuff. Cough TarAndFeathering Cough.

Which I'm actually not going to mention in this story because America is in the army, and it was mainly the ordinary bat-shit-freedom-crazy colonists who were all like:

"Let us be merry, form a mob, and kill/really injure possible Loyalists by pouring hot tar on them and feathering them like chickens."

"Sound's great dude, may I suggest the governor first? Then we can get that Scottish shopkeeper who says he's on our side but clearly isn't because he's Scottish."

"Awesome! I'll go grab the barrel of tar I keep in my garden for this specific purpose!"

Like seriously Colonists? WTF? There are times when I'm glad I'm the first of my family on both sides to be born in America, and this is one of them. No tar in my past. Just potatoes. :D


	4. Constitution, 1812, and Al Capone

**I**

**Am**

**So**

**Sorry.**

**From now on, I'm going to do a lot of skipping around. I've realized that if I try to do everything in order, I'll just take way too long. If you let me know what you might like to see (like certain events, not just a blanket topic), I'll put it in to the best of my ability. And please don't ask me to put in America's reveal. That's for the end dammit! :D**

I wanted to explain something. I said Johnny had lost his mother at a young age; his father remarried. I forgot to mention that… The mum Johnny talked about was his step mum. And I labeled the Spain POV part before I wrote it and got distracted. I also forgot smallpox. Grr.

**Warning**: Extremely patriotic thoughts. Well, she's America, what do you expect? And some swearing.

bangishimog: West (Canada's name for America) Nicknamed into Shishi

Giiwedin: Ice (America's name for Canada) Nicknamed into Gii

nwiikaanenh: brother

**...ooooOOOOoooo...**

**1782**

Her Christmas had been lonely. America could cook much better than- _Dammit can I think of anything but my brother?! Ex-Brother?! , _but despite the better food of Christmas in an actual house, her Christmas was still lonely.

Either way, it had been Christmas Dinner for one, without a single present to her name. Except for her freedom. It technically wasn't official yet, but they had surrendered, especially when England looked up from his crying and saw a musket with a large scratch pointed at him. America might have laughed at the expression on his face if the situation had, in any way, been funny. _Stop thinking brain!_

There was a lot of celebrating still, with colonists bragging left and right, even the ones who hadn't fought. _Brats._ The people who had fought weren't the ones bragging, they were the ones recuperating. Although there had been that excellent party a month after. That had been great fun, and she'd met up with a lot of familiar people.

But now America had locked herself in her room in Virginia, not feeling very well.

…**.ooooOOOOoooo….**

The British were now, after so many years of fighting, off her part of the continent. A couple months later and the preliminary Articles of Peace were signed. America took the opportunity to study England again. He had bags under his eyes and walked like there were horseshoes on his feet.

America tried not to look at him too much, merely standing next to her boss and examining the wall with sad blue eyes.

**….ooooOOOOoooo….**

She felt very weak and shivery. _I'm definitely coming down with something. _"Achoo!"

Martha chuckled. The moment Georgie had realized America was feeling sick, he had brought her home with him, stuck her in a bed, and ushered in his wife to give her some care.

"Do you have any idea what's making you so sick Dearie?" Martha asked, giving her a bit of soup. "Your friend France said it would have something to do with how affairs are in America. The country itself, not you. Wait-"

"I understand. I think it might be the Articles of Confederation. The government is tied in with how often I get sick. I think at least."

"Well Alfred, good people are working on it."

"Thanks." And she fell into fevered dreams involving soaring high in the sky inside a giant metal bird. And fires that she somehow knew she had caused.

**1783**

She didn't want to go to France. All she want to do was sleep. She'd never felt so sick in all her life. Everything ached, and her blue eyes were slightly dull in color as she pleaded with Washington.

"It's your responsibility to go. I know you too well America. If you don't go, you'll complain about it for the rest of your life."

"That's a lie Mr. Washington. I know I have to go, but-"

"You can sleep on the boat son."

**….**

_Fear me. All you French people, you should fear me._

And indeed, a young girl shied away from the look on America's face. Sick and spending that much time traveling was not healthy for anyone's health. Especially not other people's.

"Straighten up!" George commanded. "You represent you country," He hissed. "You have to be respectful in some way."

America winced. Her head was pounding and she wanted nothing more than to just lay down forever.

_Holy shit Paris is gorgeous._ Her ire melted slightly and she gazed around the city, entranced. There was something here, in the air. Something special.

"Bonjour Ameriqué!" France called.

"Bonjour France," She replied, a smile now on her face.

Washington was taken aback. A minute ago, America had been grumpier than a nanny goat, and now he was smiling! What was going on?

"Hola America!"

"Hola España!" She waved back at the Spaniard approaching. He swept her into a hug.

"And how has my little rebel been?"

"Just fine," America grinned from underneath Spain's hand, which was now messing up her hair. "Feeling a bit under the weather, but I'll be fine."

Washington only gaped.

**….**

France was nowhere to be found. Well, technically she was in France, but the man himself was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Spain. Or England._ Thank god, that'd be awfully awkward._

She wasn't expecting to see a person when she entered the room they were using to meet. It was a nice room, wonderfully furnished with all sorts of fancy things that America could semi-appreciate, even if she was more focused on gaining her independence on paper than the decorations of the room it'd take place in.

But she did see a person. A very familiar person, even if she hadn't seen him in a very long time. So she did what came naturally with a cry of, "GIIWEDIN!"

She jumped him.

**England POV**

What England hadn't expected when he brought Canada with him to one of the countless Treaty meetings was for both North Americans to loose their minds. He had told Canada to stay in the meeting room while he went to get a strong cup of tea (One could only put up with the French for so long) and when he had come back the only thing that could be used to describe what was happening was- There were no words. The lads had never even met, but there they were wrestling on the floor with little yelps from both.

"What is going on here? Stop that at once!" England demanded, forgetting that saying that would make America do the opposite.

They continued fighting, Canada for once not listening and England merely stared at them, wondering what the hell had set them off.

France and Spain entered while he was still puzzling and doing his best to ignore the two countries. Upon seeing the two nations rolling around on the floor France immediately let out his trademark laugh. "Oh hon hon hon. Angleterre, it looks like both of your colonies have decided-"

"I'm not a colony!" America immediately glared at France, stopping his fight with Canada. Canada wasn't expecting America to stop, and his fist went plowing into America's stomach.

"Glahhh!" America flailed dramatically for a second and started making a wheezing noise. It took a second for England to realize that the lad was laughing. _Laughing. Why would he be laughing?_

Canada joined, and the North America twins were soon convulsing on the floor with laughter.

"What's wrong with them?" Spain poked Canada with the toe of his boot, merely making them laugh harder.

"We should roll them out of the room and get on with the meetings."

"We aren't rolling them in my building."

"Frog."

"Gii-Gii-Gii-we" America was trying to speak, but instead kept laughing

"Ba-Bangi-sh-" Canada gave up trying to speak and merely knocked America on the head to get his attention. America rolled over and pinned Canada to the floor in retaliation before collapsing with laughter and rolling off so the two were side by side again.

"They've never even met before. I didn't want mon _petit Canada_ to catch anything from you."

"Catch anything? I ought to punch you! They never met because I kept them apart! You had nothing to do with it!"

"Amigos," Spain interrupted, gesturing to the two who had managed to calm themselves down. America and Canada looked up at the three older nations with almost completely straight faces.

"That's a lie," The twins said in unison. "Of course we've met before."

**America POV**

"Don't be ridiculous, of course you haven't!" England snapped.

"This is my nwiikaanenh." America said proudly.

Three highly-confused nations stared at her while a fourth hummed in agreement.

"What the hell is that?" England asked, completely confused.

America rolled her eyes. "My brother!"

"That doesn't explain how you've met before." France pointed out, trying to get Canada's attention.

"North America existed before Europeans landed on it." Canada said simply, not looking at France.

"Yup," America popped the "p", smiling at the look on England's face upon hearing the sound.

"Let's just start with the meeting," Spain said before England could say anything on the subject.

"Sounds like a plan. Come on Gii." America started to drag Canada to a chair before realizing that there weren't enough. However the chairs were quite large and so she squeezed the two into the same chair. "There." She said happily.

Canada shrugged apologetically towards England, who looked ready to start yelling. Luckily he calmed down and the meeting went off without a hitch.

Somehow by the end of the meeting America and Canada had ended up curled together. America tried to disentangle herself and just ended up tripping and almost smacking her head on the high back of the chair. She laughed and struggled to pull out her foot. France watched in amusement and Canada pressed his hip farther into the chair, effectively trapping her foot.

"Gahh!" America pulled out her foot and lost her balance, landing on the floor. She held out an arm to Canada and he helped her up. She brushed her clothes off and hugged him one last time.

Back in her own room she could still feel the tingling in her limbs. _North America._

**...**

The meetings were long and tedious and involved sitting in a room for hours on end with France, Spain, and England. France was taking all-too-much pleasure in being hospitable towards her just to rub it in England's face. But hey, at least she got some perks. Such as Canada was allowed in the room. That made the meetings much nicer.

"That was the most awkward thing I've ever experienced," America commented afterwards as England swept out of the room, face pulled in a scowl. Canada quickly went after him, flashing a quick grin at her.

Spain nodded. "Sí amigo. Very awkward."

"At least we're nearly done. The papers will be ready to be signed tomorrow and then I'll finally be free for real. With even more land!"

"Congratulations." France clapped her on the shoulder, surprisingly not making a move on her.

…**  
**

**December 1783**

"You're really resigning soon?" America whined.

Washington sighed. "It's time for you to become a respectable nation-"

"-You can help me!" America pleaded.

"I don't want to be another king. You know this as well as I do America."

America huffed, blowing Nantucket further up towards the ceiling.

"You'll be back right?"

"I want to relax a bit. Maybe one day, but it isn't likely."

**...**

So in the end, it was 1784 when her independence was official. And when yet another person discovered her secret.

She had been up in her room in Washington's house, Mt. Vernon, tightening her bandages, when Martha Washington walked in.

They stared at each other for a moment, Martha's large eyes widening and her hands went up to cover her mouth.

America offered a weak smile and coughed violently.

Martha helped her back to the bed and America got over her coughing spell, Martha staring at her all the while.

"You're a girl?"

America nodded.

**….**

"You can't tell anyone!" Alfred was pleading with her.

"You're a young lady, you can't just act like a man all the time."

"If I don't I'll be invaded and taken over. Please! No one was supposed to know and now four do! Not including me!"

"Who else knows?" Martha wanted to make sure that the girl's secret was in safe hands.

"Well Hungary and Prussia know, but that's because they were the ones who told me I was a girl in the first place. Hungary told Poland, and now you know."

"England doesn't?"

"He just assumed I was male."

Martha winced in sympathy.

"Are you going to tell anyone?" She looked down at the young nation and pulled her into a hug.

"No, your secret is safe with me."

"You can't even tell General Washington."

Martha hesitated, but nodded. Her nation would come first for this.

"Now," Martha said, suddenly businesslike. You can get away with looking like a rather girl boy for now, but not for long. And one day you'll need to be a lady. *****Patsy and I will teach you."

"You can't tell Patsy!" America said, alarmed. "You weren't even supposed to know!"

Martha thought. "You represent all Americans. Therefore you must know what every young lady does, male or not."

America nodded. "Sounds good."

**...**

Soon it became painfully aware that Britain wasn't gone. He was up north too! Up in Canada._ I've got to get him out! Don't worry Canada, I'll save you!_

_It's a win-win for us and a loose for England._

_I'll be your hero!_

**...**

**1788 June 21**

**U.S. Constitution adopted, when New Hampshire ratifies it.**

America danced around the government building, overly-happy.

"Woohoo! I'm not sick anymore and have a good government! I'm feeling so much better. Thank you thank you thank you!"

Many of the men gasped for air after she hugged them.

**1789**

"You're President now. You're officially my boss." America grinned widely. She'd found a daddy.

Washington ruffled America's hair. "Yes. Yes I am.

**December 1814 (Treaty of Ghent. Sort of... Not at all, but a lead up...)**

It was a battle. A face-off. Two identical faces. Eyes the same color for once in the fading light. Pale narrowed eyebrows. Quivering lips. Collision.

America was a swirl of blue and white fabric as she dodged and struck.

Right. Left. Duck. Jump. Smack. Damn Redcoats.

Canadians.

Dear god, this was Giiwedin, her nwiikaanenh. What the hell were they doing to each other! War, a useless war. She wasn't a hero, could never be a hero. She was deluded, a fool. She wasn't a hero, she was the villain. She had invaded him, had taken Lake Erie and some of Ontario, and done a bunch of other crap. All because she wanted to save him from England. But she'd hurt him worse than England ever had.

_I'm not a hero. I will never be a hero. I'm hurting my brother._

_Never a hero._

_Never._

_I'm the bad guy here._

_And Canada is coming. He's coming for me, and he's going to kill me and he'll never know how sorry I am._

Panic rose in her throat. Her blue eyes were wide, her short hair messy and sticking up at odd angles. Blinking was rather hard; Martha had cut her eyelashes.

"Gii!" She screamed a scream of pure anguish, of fear and of grief. "We have to stop! We're hurting each other!"

Canada stopped. Both twins were breathing heavily. Far off to the side America could see England fighting, but she shook herself slightly and looked back at Canada, paying full attention. The twins stood and watched each other. America could feel hot tears springing to her eyes. Canada's own eyes had the beginnings of tears as well. And suddenly they were tangled up on the ground, bawling their eyes out together and clinging to each other for dear life. Only a few words could be understood.

"Giiwedin… Sorry… Oh god sorry…"

"Bangishmog… I'm… forgive me… Please…"

Finally the two nations, only about fifteen years old in form, stopped blubbering and just clung to each other.

"Alfred?"

"Hmm?" This was comfortable. She knew it probably wasn't the smartest idea to be sitting in the middle on a battlefield, but she didn't really care right now.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorrier." She replied. "God, I'm so sorry Mattie!"

"I burnt you."

"I burnt you too."

"I." Canada clearly didn't know what to say next.

The fact that they were both still on a battlefield was forgotten by them both as America threw her arms around him. "I invaded you," She cried. "I'm so sorry! You win!"

"Tie," Canada replied, though he seemed pleased at the "you win." "Let's call it a tie."

America just cried harder, and Canada wrapped his arms around her tighter, the tears he thought he'd cried out pricking his eyes.

"This war isn't going anywhere," America suddenly sat up. "Treaty?"

Canada nodded and smiled slightly. "Treaty."

**Actual treaty of Ghent (In Belgium)**

Belgium was nice. The country and the person. Belgium had hugged her tightly around the middle before doing the same to Canada.

"Let's skip on the meetings," America suggested.

Canada nodded, then paused. "But you don't have anyone to speak for you, you can't just leave."

America swore. "Fine, but we're passing notes. And sitting next to each other."

Canada grinned.

They sat through long meetings until the treaty was finished. It took forever, and the twins could only take so much of drawing caricatures of fellow nations, of which they only knew a few.

France was their favorite to draw. _That douche had given up Canada and called him a barren rock or something! Unacceptable! _

Once, they had just finished a lovely one of France (Probably their twentieth) with a little Napoleon on his shoulder when Canada said something that made America fall off her chair from laughter. The entire room looked at her.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" America rolled around on the ground. "Oh that's funny!"

Canada smiled, pleased.

America returned to her seat, and the incident was soon forgotten by everyone but her boss, James Madison.

A break came up, and America was all ready to be scolded when James whispered, "What did Canada say?"

America grinned and whispered, "It only makes sense that the greatest military leader of France would be a foreigner."

James Madison snorted. "That is very funny, but hold in your laughter a bit better next time."

"Yes sir," America replied before dragging Canada away so they could explore outside.

**A little bit of Prohibition. AKA Fuck this. Let's drink! AKA Damn author, why don't you stop writing about death?!**

America downed a sip of liquor as she looked around one of Al Capone's speakeasies. She liked this one, it seemed less like a hidden bar and more open. _And it didn't seem as illegal,_ she reminded herself._ I wonder if I could get arrested for this. It's funny, I never used to drink this much, and I'm supposed to be completely sober._

A woman came up as America took another swig of her drink.

Her dress was really short, America couldn't help but notice. Shorter than the average woman's. A little higher than mid-thigh actually. _She must be cold, it's not exactly summer. February much?_

"Hello," The woman said.

"Hello."

"What's your name, handsome?"

America choked. The man next to her roared with laughter and thumped her on the back before turning around to become a perfect stranger again.

"Sorry?" America asked.

She looked amused. "I asked your name cutie."

"Alfred," America held out a hand for a shake. The woman shook her hand and slid into the barstool next to her.

"I'm Catherine."

America tried not to laugh. Catherine was trying so very hard to be sexy, but it just wasn't working.

"Great to meet you. Was there something you wanted?"

Catherine lowered her lashes a little, trying to give of some sort of "Sexy/Shy" look.

_Canada is sexier than her, and he's my brother. Eww, Canada trying to be sexy. Brain bleach! Bad thoughts! Canada will hunt me down and spear me with a beaver tail or something. Oh god that'd be terrifying._

"I'd love to get to know you better. And tomorrow is St. Valentine's Day."

"Oh, yeah, it is, isn't it?! I'd love you be your friend," America put on her usual smile._ Go away go away go away._

Catherine tilted her head and chewed on the straw of her drink. A fruity, low-alchol drink, America noticed. This woman was wim-pay!

"More?"

"More what, you done with your drink already?" GET THE FUCK AWAY WOMAN!

Catherine rolled her eyes and left the speakeasy.

America did a little victory dance and mouthed a thank you to an unknown entity.

A couple men laughed.

LATER THAT NIGHT

"A-an-an-and so I said," America hiccoughed, holding in laughter. "I said, but boss, I don', I don', I don' wanna be sober! Let's all get drunk off our asses sir!"

The group she had fallen in with roared with laughter. Everything's funny when you're a happy drunk.

"An' an' he said, 'Alfred, you won' be able to convince me,'" Alfred slurred. "'Wit a bottle of moonshine in one hand and a bottle ah whiskey in the other!'"

And the merriment continued into the night.

"Where're you from?" One of the men asked.

"America!" America yelled, scaring a few people.

"I'll drink to that!" The man who had asked her announced, lifting in his glass and whooping before taking a long drink of whiskey.

"America!" Some of the men cheered.

"Canada!" Another yelled, falling off his bench.

"Ireland!" Cried another, falling on top of him.

America laughed. They were bother drunk off their asses.

"Find Ireland funny, d'ya?" The Irishman got up and marched towards her.

"No no no no no no no no! Just remembering what my friend from Ireland once said to me."

"What?"

"She told me a joke, but you can' take offense!" America warned. "'Therwise I won' tell it."

"I won'. Soldier's honor!"

"'Right, this is it. Didja ever hear of the Irish boomerang?

All the men shook their heads, grins appearing on their faces as they thought of what the answer might be.

"It never comes back," America hiccoughed. "It just sings songs about how much it wants to!"

Even the Irishman laughed, and many jokes were told.

America woke up the next morning with a horrible headache and a pain in her chest. She'd been in the bandages too long without loosening them.

"Ugnh," She moaned. She was on the floor of the speakeasy, surrounded by hungover men. The bartender saw that she was up and handed her a *****Corpse Reviver. She downed it gratefully. "Thanks. Why'd you let us stay?"

"I heard rumors of a shooting and I didn't want any of you to get hurt."

"Thank you." America pulled out a bit of money. "Here."

The bartender pocketed it with a nod. "Don't leave yet, I'm still worried about the gunshots."

America nodded in agreement and looked at the bar. She picked up a few empty bottles and started helping the man right the place. He gave her a grateful look.

They cleaned for maybe a half-hour, making a surprising amount of progress, before the bartender said that it should be safe to leave.

"See you soon maybe," America said as she stepped outside. Her head didn't hurt nearly as much now, but she still walked rather sluggishly.

Al Capone appeared in front of her.

"Hello Al," He said.

"Hello Al," America replied, smirking.

"You look hungover." Capone said.

America nodded. "Absolutely. I was at one of your places actually. Great place, the bartender let people stay the night and wouldn't let me leave for a bit this morning because he heard gunshots. Good man."

Capone got an odd look on his face. "I wouldn't know anything about that."

America had lived long enough to know when someone was lying.

And Alfonse "Scarface" Capone was lying.

Bigtime.

* * *

**THE END FOR NOW!**

**St. Valentine's Day Massacre. **In 1929, it is believed that AL Capone ordered the shooting of seven people in a garage in the Lincoln park area of Chicago. Mobsters dressed as police officers shot seven people from a rival mob by lining them up against a wall (Which they didn't argue against, as they believed they were the police.) Then they called for reinforcements and shot them all with machine guns. This was on Thursday morning, Valentine's Day.

***Patsy. **Daughter of Martha Washington, but not George's kid. (He never had children) She had epilepsy and died at a fairly young age.

***Corpse Reviver.** A popular cocktail in America during the Prohibition period that was designed to help you get over a hangover.

**Alright, quick reminder in case you've forgotten. Since I've decided to skip around, if you want to let me know what you'd like to see next, I'd be happy to oblige. :D**

**Al Capone is a point of pride for most Chicagoans. The fuck?**

**Who says fan fiction isn't educational?**

**You can thank the Prohibition bit because I recently put a bunch of Irish music on my computer. "Oh, Whiskey you're the devil! You're leading me astray! O'er the hills and mountains, and to a-" I'm done. :D Sorry that took so long.**


	5. Colony, Cold, Civil

**I'm the worst at updating on time. I apologize deeply.**

**So I re-read, cringed at the mistakes, and then realized how mean I was being to England. And I love him! So I will focus on pre-revolution, a bit more of England being an asshole (only a bit I swear), some Cold War (that's more just America and England talking), and a tiny start to some Civil War.**

**Enjoy, and again, I'm sorry for the delay. I am terrible with doing things on time. In my defense, my computer was taken away and I had finals.**

**Oh and I just learned that there's an entire blog dedicated to Civil War facial hair. What?**

**...oooOOOooo...**

**The Best Big Brother Ever**

The sun was hidden behind gray, rain-filled clouds. There was a sudden crash of thunder, and both of the house's inhabitants, one small, one much taller, jumped.

"England, we should probably get away from the windows." England looked down at the small child looking worriedly up at him as rain began to pour from the gray clouds above.

England raised his eyebrows, amused. "I think I know a bit about rain."

"Oh. Well, you know everything!" America nodded enthusiastically.

England grinned.

"You know that's not true America."

America's mouth twisted as she thought. "It sure seems like it anyway!"

"Aren't you nice?"

"Yup!"

England laughed and the two went up to bed, separating so they could get into bedclothes.

"Are you decent?" England called into America's bedchamber.

"Yeah! Are you?"

England stepped into the room instead of answering.

All that could be seen of America was a small tuft of wheat-colored hair peeking out from the top of the deep blue blankets and a stuffed bunny.

America wriggled out form under the blankets clutching a stuffed bunny. England smiled at her, brotherly love evident in his eyes. America smiled right back, kicking her feet under the covers and watching the mysterious light that came from her pajamas when she did **(1)**.

"What story tonight?" England asked, settling down next to America in the bed.

"Tell me another one about you beating up France!"

England laughed and tried to think of one that he hadn't already told America.

**...**

"Right lad, I'm going to hand you some things, and I want you to put it up on the windowsill. Can you do that for me?"

America grinned and nodded.

England began passing her things to put on the sill behind her. After a few minutes, England came to something particularly heavy, and he huffed as he lifted it. America huffed as well as she took the oddly heavy paperweight. England didn't think anything of it, and the next package was light. He passed it up, and America placed it on the window without a sound. A few things went by before there was something a bit heavy than it looked, and England let out an audible puff of air as he passed it up. America huffed too. England paused. Was America... copying him?

Time for a test.

England let out a fake huff and passed America a very light flowerpot. America huffed too.

England stared at her for a second before he let out a quick laugh and surprised America by grabbing her and swinging her around.

"Aiiii!" America yelled in shock before bursting into hysterical laughter.

England cracked up as well. America was the cutest thing.

"England?" America asked after they'd tired themselves out messing around instead of actually putting things away.

"Yes?"

"Do you really have to leave?"

England hated the answer. "You know that I have to."

America pouted. "I love you anyway," she said and hugged him around the middle.

England gasped for breath at the hug, but he still had a smile on his face. "I love you too lad."

**...oooOOOooo...**

**Freedonia, Nightmares of the Past, Present, and Future**

There was a teacup filled with blood on the table. Freedonia sat and watched it with fearful, wide eyes, afraid to move. The red liquid within was swirling as though it was being stirred and was emitting metallic clacking noises. The kind you get when a spoon hits ceramic. But there was no spoon.

Then there was silence. Nothing was moving. Freedonia herself sat perfectly still, eyes not even blinking. The blood in the cup was now perfectly tranquill, clanking noises gone.

"Fredonia." The voice came from behind. Freedonia knew that voice.

"England," she said calmly, but her eyes shot from the cup to land on his face with speed that spoke volumes. He looked the same as he always had. She wondered if she did.

"Freedonia," England repeated. He towered above her. "Freedonia, did you really think you could get away with it? You should have known you wouldn't succeed."

Freedonia looked at him questioningly. "What?"

"Foolish child," England shook his head. "And don't think making me tea will fix anything." He picked up the teacup, sending ripples through the smooth surface.

"That's not tea," Freedonia said, jumping to her feet. But suddenly it was hard to breathe. She swayed slightly and material swished around her legs. The Freedonian looked down. She was wearing a beautiful red dress with gold buttons down the sides and elaborate embroidery. Freedonia felt sick. It was like someone had taken the uniform of the British army and made it into a dress. And it was very tight around the middle, making her sway slightly and feel dizzy.

"Don't be ridiculous," England scoffed. "Of course it's tea."

"It's blood England."

"Liar." England took a sip. "See, it's tea."

There was a sinking, pulling, twisting feeling in her stomach and she shook her head. "It's blood. Look at the color."

England ignored her. "Wash up Freedonia, your dress is filthy."

Freedonia looked down and didn't see anything wrong. She was about to say something when a bright, harsh, light filled the room. And then she saw it. There were blotchy discolorations all over the dress. Blood.

Why was there so much blood? It was all over her hands. The warm liquid was dripping down her arms, leaving a swirly, misshapen trail down her arms to her elbows.

Her clothes then changed and she was in her own uniform. The familiar material was both comforting and terrifying. The blood was still there, and it was coloring the blue of her uniform into a solid gray. Brass buttons were appearing. The length changed, grew shorter. She shivered and there was a horrible pain in her torso. It was cutting her in half. Freedonia gasped.

She was suddenly pinned against the wall by England. She had forgotten he was there. The teacup smashed against the wall, leaving a bright, horrifyingly red stain that dripped down the walls to form a wild pattern on the floor.

"You lost Freedonia. Stop living in the past."

Freedonia swallowed. "I lost?"

England narrowed his eyes, his rather large eyebrows following. "Yes, foolish child."

"No."

"What did you say?"

"I said no." Freedonia could feel her courage returning. Her knees stopped shaking. Her stomach stopped churning. "I won. Not you."

England smirked. "Lies," he whispered. "You're lying to yourself. Your victory was only a dream."

Dream. She was dreaming. It was just a nightmare. She may have fought England, but he was nothing at all like that. And he would totally notice if his teacup was filled with blood.

America sat up and pushed the curtains of her bed aside. She got a drink of water and looked out across the back garden of John Adams' house. It was peaceful and the leaves of plants blew slightly in the wind. America leaned a feverish cheek against the window and took a deep breath.  
Mr. Adams had really freaked her out with all this talk of changing her name to Freedonia **(2)**.

**...oooOOOooo...**

**1960**

The sun shone brightly down on the city of Paris, unusual for the end of November, and two blond nations made their way down the street in comfortable silence. America and England were very early to a meeting (for once in America's case), and had stepped out for a bite to eat before going back to the meeting. They were still early, and America's thoughts were turning away from what her new President, John F. Kennedy, might be like when he was sworn in come January. In fact, her thoughts were now more towards...  
_That was a cute dress.  
So was that.  
I'd probably look good in that one.  
If only Italy was a girl, because a girl Italy would rock that one. Maybe one day I could convince him to crossdress. Ooh, and that dress would be the single most perfect thing ever if Hungary wore it. I'll have to talk to her later._  
England's voice brought her back to the real world and she tore her eyes away from the bright window display.  
"Are you alright lad?"  
"Yeah," America said, resisting the girly urge to check out those shoes on last time because _damn they were cute shoes_. "I'm fine."

England looked at her suspiciously. "If you're sure."

"Trust me dude, I'm fine."

"Alright," England turned away.  
"I'm fine." America repeated.  
"Yes, I get it."

"Yeah," America said half-softly, fully distractedly._ Focus dude.  
_

England was speaking.  
"Sorry, what was that?"  
"Oh ha ha," He said sarcastically. "Very funny. That isn't a joke I've heard before."  
"No dude, what did you say?"  
"I told you to listen to what I'm saying!" England shook his head, exhasperated. "Honestly Alfred, pay attention."

_You just brought a girl onto a Parisian street filled with beautiful clothes. What the hell did you expect?... Nothing, because you have no idea what you did._

"Sure. Whatcha wanna talk about? Nukes?" America said, barely even looking at England.

"No Alfred, I don't want to talk about "nukes". I want to know if you're alright. You've been very distracted and not nearly as loud as usual."

America shrugged. "I'm fine Arthur. Just feeling a bit tired." This wasn't a lie. With all the movement for equality, which she personally felt should have already been had, she had been feeling rather drained with mixed feelings on the topic. _Gosh, if only my people could just agree! Then I wouldn't have this headache and I know those clothing displays wouldn't be as distracting. I don't even LIKE clothes for Lincoln's sake! I don't give a crap what I look like! Unless it's for something important. Not to mention Russia. If he'd just stop being such a damn commie this wouldn't be a problem. Douche._

England looked a bit suspicious, but he didn't press the issue.

"Come on then," England said. "Shall we head to the meeting?"

America shrugged. "I don't have a problem with it."

The two nations walked down the street, America discreetly glancing at the window displays from the corners of her blue eyes. _STOP!_

"So, how do you think your new president will be as a leader?"

America thought for a moment, then her face stretched into a huge grin.

"It's gonna be awesome!" she exclaimed. "Plus it'll be the first of my inaugurations in color. COLOR! The people who can't come'll really feel like they're there, ya know? And Marian Anderson**(3)** is gonna sing my national anthem. Gosh, I love her, she's great, ain't she? All these people who wanna keep people apart are wrong. She's just as deserving of fame as every famous white person. It ain't right that she's not as popular as she should be."

England looked at her for a moment. "Do you ever speak with correct grammar?"

America shrugged. "Sure, but where's the fun in that? Plus it confuses Francis. But can we keep talking about fun things?"

England smiled. "Of course. Now, who did you say was singing your anthem?"

"Marian Anderson." America sighed. Marian had a wonderful voice.

England's eyes popped. "As you serious? Marian Anderson? She's such a good singer!"

And by the time the two were back at the conference room, they were excitedly making plans for England to come for the inauguration (though he technically had plans to come before. However, these were more personal plans and involved actual interaction between the two beyond a "Congratulations" and a "Thanks dude.") and trying to imitate the quality of Anderson's voice (and failing tremendously).

France shook his head, completely confused. Especially at America's grammar. His English might be good, but it wasn't good enough to decipher what America called language. _'What kind of word is "ain't?"'_ France wondered. Even after spending a lot of time around America he still couldn't understand a great deal of the young country's daily conversations.

**...oooOOOooo...**

**So it Begins**

Her stomach hurt.

That was the first thing she processed upon waking up. Her head hurt a bit from the alcohol she'd been drinking, but it was her stomach that hurt the most. She'd been celebrating Lincoln's election the night before, but something was definitely wrong.

She hissed as a particular spot on her stomach gave a painful throb.

_That's where South Carolina is._

_They're seceding. Holy Massachusetts that hurts!_

She doubled over in pain.

America spent the next month curled up on her bed, trying not to scream in pain. White hot liquid steel flowed through her veins and her whole body was on fire. The pain would change intensity and ease off a bit once in a while and she was glad it did, because America was positive that she would have gone insane otherwise.

Then February came. America opened her eyes blearily one morning, somehow having managed to fall asleep. There was a brief second of relief where she didn't feel anything and she used that to put on her glasses, but then the pain came back with a vengeance in a tidal wave of red and black.

_I'm going to die._

_Holy shit, I'm going to die._

The pain was worse than anything she'd ever felt, even the past few weeks couldn't compare.

_It hurts so much._

And suddenly, it faded to a dull aching across her lower torso. She laid back fully in the bed, unaware of her surroundings for a moment.

"Hello?" The voice was that of a slightly younger girl. America sat up more quickly than she had ever done in her whole life. She noted in the back of her mind that she was still bound on top, and therefore still looked like a guy.

America looked wildly around the room. "Hello?" America tentatively called back.

There was someone in her room. A thirteen-year-old girl was standing by the door. She had brown eyes and dark hair tied back into two long braids held back by red ribbons. The two eyed each other warily. _Who the Lexington and Concord is that?_

"What's your name?" America asked, irrationally afraid of the answer.

The pain in her stomach spiked for a second as the younger girl answered in a very southern-sounding accent. "I'm the Confederate States of America, who're you?"

America's face hardened. "That's not a real country, you can't be."

"I am!" Confederacy insisted.

America shook her head. "There's only one country that's "States of America", and that's the United States of America."

"Who do you think you are?!" Confederacy asked in an affronted tone. "You can't speak to a country like that!"

"I'm the United States of America. And I am the North, the South, the East, and the West. You aren't a country, and you never will be. Even if you were I would still speak to you how I damn well please." America didn't care that the other girl looked like she might cry upon hearing the harsh words. She was in too much pain. The bottom half of her body felt tingly and she knew that the second she let herself accept the Confederacy, she'd loose everything that she was. That was unacceptable. America knew that this was her land. Confederacy wasn't part of it.

"I will be my own country," Confederacy swore. "I will be." She swiped Texas off of America's face and stormed out of the room, her blue dress swinging behind her.

America sat back. Her legs were regaining feeling, but they still felt odd. Not painful per say, but numb. She was still connected to the south though...

_How will this work if there are two personifications controlling the same land? _

_One of us is going to have to die. _

_It's not going to be me._

And then she looked down. America almost passed out at the sight. There was a large, twisted, slash through her abdomen. She vaguely recognized the path it took as being the edges of the seceded states.

_Oh look, it's Louisiana. Are those my guts? _

And _then_ she passed out.

**...oooOOOooo...**

**(1) **I could totally see America as a kid looking at static electricity and being really curious.

**(2)** This is actually true. John Adams wanted to rename the United States to Freedonia. I'm definitely glad he didn't succeed. Then I'd be a "Freedonian." Awkward, amiright?

**(3)** Marian Anderson. Famous African-American singer around this time. Very popular in most of Europe (unless Wikipedia failed me) and really a beautiful classical singer.

**Civil War: How this will work in future chapters**

The Union thought of America as still one country. This would therefore be America. The Confederacy thought of itself as two countries. So, the Confederacy would have it's own personification, and have all the injuries dealt to the South. But America, who was against the seceding, would get injuries that were dealt to both sides. I didn't want America to just go crazy trying to rip herself apart, but I also didn't want her to only be the Union, because I can't see that as making much sense since the whole point was to NOT let the South leave. Accepting herself as just the Union would just make the Confederacy win. Sorry if this isn't your headcanon, but that's how it'll be written.

Any requests on what to see next? The Space Race, America being a total douche to England at the end of WWII, and more Civil War (with some Russia) are coming up soon.


	6. Happy Valentine's Day

**A glimpse into the life of Alfred F. Jones Part one**

**Some headcanons, basically just something a bit more fun and not historical. Just for fun and not really related to much other than America's daily life.**

**Historical stuff will come up later.**

**This isn't pairings. A couple people wanted to see more of Prussia and America together, and this has a bit of that.**

**I hope it's as fluffy as I wanted it to be...**

* * *

The first sound of the day was made by a shrill ringing.

America groaned and hit snooze.

Five minutes later, just as she was drifting off once again, the ringing went off again.

America swore and hit the "dismiss alarm" button on the screen of her phone.

She fell asleep again.

_*RING!*_

America briefly considered smashing the phone, but the last time she'd done that it had broken the table beneath it too and she didn't feel like getting a new table AND a new phone.

America sat up, rubbed her eyes, and as per habit tightened her bindings. Yawning, she stretched like a cat, feeling the familiar tightness she got in her chest whenever she moved too far in one direction.

The first thing America does most mornings is check her email. Sometimes she forgets things and she needs to know if she has to rush off or not. So that's just what she did.

She had a new email from Prussia (among other emails), and she checked it first. It was the link to a preview for a new movie coming out called "The Knights of Badassdom" and the words "We're seeing this together." America watched the trailer, cracked up, replied with a "Hell yeah! ;D" and then moved onto the next one. It was from Japan asking about having a video game night later that month. She sent a quick email back saying "Sure, sounds really awesome. Just us or anyone else?" before moving on. The next was from Canada, wondering if anyone else was going to join them being all single and stuff on Singles Awareness Day (the two usually hung out on the day after Valentine's Day and went out to the store for all the half-price candy). She sent an email saying that she wasn't sure but didn't think so and moved on._ Oh. it's from Boss._ She read it.

"Alfred,

Take the day and tomorrow off. The House and Senate are just arguing, and you being there will just make them swarm you, even if it is only through Skype. Have fun, and don't get arrested. Go on a date or something."

America laughed and did a celebratory wiggle dance in her chair.

_Does he honestly think I have a love life_?

Even though her boss wouldn't call her America due to it "sounding strange" (totally his words, not hers), he was still an awesome boss, and this just cemented it.

She checked the time.

_The hell? It's six fucking forty-two!_

_I at least wanted to sleep until seven. Was that too much to ask?_

America glanced to either side, trying to look like the Peter Parker meme before she burst into song, doing a sort of act-it-out dance with it.

"~~~Winter geting colder, summer getting warmer, tidal wave comin' cross the Mexican border. Why buy a gallon, it's cheaper by the barrel just don't get busted singin' Christmas Carols. That's ME that's right, Gotta love this American ride~~~!"*

She did some dance leaps down the hallway to the kitchen and put on her kettle. Her old, run-down kettle that didn't even light up when it was boiling anymore, and the handle had to be twisted in a specific way in order to work. America patted the kettle before it got too hot and looked through the little cupboard above the counter that held it.

_Earl Gray, top shelf for you you little mofo of a box. How the hell did you even get on the bottom shelf? Probably Tony just being a troll._

_Lady Gray, that tea is so weak even England doesn't like to drink it. Back of the top shelf for you so that the next time he comes over I can piss him off._

_Irish Breakfast tea... Ireland, stop leaving your shit over here! Take it the hell back with you when you visit!_

_And a shelf of Asian tea. Oolong, green, Korean Ginseng. Hmm. I haven't had that in a while. I either really really liked it or hated it a lot. Better not risk it._

_And coffee! Coffee coffee coffee coffee I loooooove you! Better than all the other crap in here twice over!~_

The kettle made a clicking sound and steam billowed out from the top. America glanced at it, but knew that it wasn't boiled yet. She took out a mug, filled it with grounds, and then went to her fridge.

_Fooooooodd~. Must have it._

_Okay, sausage, bacon, cheese, juice, eugh, I don't wanna make anything._

_But I don't want to go out to get food either._

_Hmm..._

_Toast it is._

By the time she had the toast in the toaster, the kettle had gone off.

America poured the hot water into a large black mug with a practiced twist of her hand and then spread peanut butter on her toast.

Sitting down in her usual chair at her kitchen table, she looked around the room.

Her house wasn't the large Virginian plantation she had grown up in. That had been burnt down a long time ago. This new house (Okay, it was a hundred years old, so pretty new by only nation standards) in Wisconsin wasn't nearly as pretty, but it held a certain homeyness in it. The floor tiles' flowered pattern was faded and there were permanent marks in the counters that no amount of bleach would ever get out. The brown paint on the windowsills was peeling and faded, but the walls were a new, unfaded shade of sky blue. America finished her toast and tipped back her chair against the wall as she drank her coffee, still running her eyes over the familiar patterns of the house, from the old toaster to the bread basket filled with fruit while the bread sat haphazardly on the counter next to the toaster.

_I should go get the newspaper._

_Nah. Too lazy._

She finished her coffee in silence, and brought her plate and cup to the unusually empty sink (she'd done dishes last night for once after she'd run out of clean plates and cups), filling the sink with water. The window above the sink faced the backyard, and a small smile came to her lips as she looked over the little playground and trampoline she'd set up for the kids on the block. There was already a little boy out there in the snow that had only started falling the day before. There was enough snow that school was off, which was great for the kids in the neighborhood. It was snowing again in fact, and America sighed at the dip in the trampoline.

_I have to scrape it off now or else the springs'll get weaker. Oh great._

America waved to the little kid, who didn't see her, and went to get dressed. Her room was a little different than the rest of the house. The house had a total of four bedrooms, and hers was the largest and where she basically spent her life.

_Scratch that, I have no life._

The others were used for whenever people came over, which wasn't as often as she wished it was. It was hard to go to someone's house when they lived in a different country. Unless it was Canada and she was far enough north to just pop over. Which she was. She considered going over, but decided against it.

_Lol, Pitch Perfect. Sometimes I think I might visit my brother, but then I think 'Ah, better not'. Anyway, he's coming tomorrow so whatever._

America went to her closet and yanked on her favorite orange hoodie and a pair of jeans, running a brush through her hair lazily and stuffing her toothbrush in her mouth.

_Minty. Still doesn't go well with breakfast._

Then she pulled on her boots and coat, washed out her mouth (leaving the toothbrush at the sink), and stepped outside, successfully scaring the crap out of the little boy being a loner on the see-saw.

"I thought no one lived there!" he chirped, looking at her curiously.

"I live here silly," America laughed obnoxiously. "I just travel a lot for work."

"But you're younger than my brother, and he doesn't have a job."

"How old do you think I am?" America grinned at the kid. The kid was adorable. He had blond hair plastered to his cheeks and a bright blue hat on. His purple heart-covered scarf (clearly a hand-me-down) was halfway unwound, dragging in the snow behind him. His gloves were on the wrong hands, and he had Spiderman snow boots.

"Umm," the little boy thought. "Like fifteen?"

"I'm twenty-two," America's smile widened at the look of shock on his face. Although she was technically nineteen, she had to age in order to stay in the town. She moved around a lot. She'd only lived in her current house for about six years, having claimed she was seventeen when she first bought the house. She started scraping the snow off the trampling while they talked.

"And you live alone? My mom doesn't think that people should live alone! She says you get sad."

"Oh well." America shrugged, then changed the subject. "Hey, what's your name?"

_James Brown, age eight. Nickname Jimmy. Third grade. Mom from New York. Dad from Texas. Parents divorced, Dad lives in Texas again._

"I'm Jimmy. I'm eight, and I'm in the third grade. I love dinosaurs and guns and superheroes." Jimmy smiled widely, showing that his two front teeth were still missing. "Oh, and cookies," He added as an afterthought. "Cookies are good. So are cupcakes."

America grinned even wider. Jimmy was such a cute kid.

"So why're you in my backyard?"

"I thought it was a playground," Jimmy explained. "Everyone calls it one. I don't know why though."

America nodded. "I know why. I set it up so that people could come in and out however they wanted too. See, there's no gate or anything."

"That's really nice of you," Jimmy said. He was nailed with a snowball from behind just as America finished the job she had left the house to do.

"Ahoy there!" A few kids were approaching.

"That wasn't very nice Annie!" Jimmy crossed his arms and pouted at the girl who had thrown the snow.

_Annemarie Milazzo, age ten. Nickname Annie. Fifth grade. Italian parents. Both born in Rome. No other relatives on this side of the Atlantic. Speaks Italian at home._

"Alfred?" Annie asked.

"Hey!" America actually knew Annie from a couple years ago. She hadn't seen the girl last winter though. "Where were you last year?"

"Visiting family in Rome," Annie scooped up another ball of snow.

"Wait, you're a guy! I thought you were a girl!" Jimmy exclaimed.

America pretended she was in pain, though she was secretly a bit flattered. "Ooh, right in the masculinity bro!"

The neighborhood kids (all five of them) cracked up.

Annie took that chance to whip a snowball at America.

America dodged the missle and smirked.

"You'll never touch me!"

The other kids laughed and watched Annie try to hit America. America dodged them all, and then another kid got her in the back while she was distracted.

America stopped and wheeled around to face him.

_Michael Tang. Age eleven. Fifth grade. Mom from Hong Kong. Dad from China. Speaks Cantonese at home._

She slowly scooped up a snowball, and soon the whole backyard had descended into a snow war zone. America was crouched behind a table laying on its side, watching the running children.

_Samantha Bielwac. Nickname Sammy. Age ten. Fourth grade. Immigrated from Poland at the age of five. Has very good English. Inattentive parents._

_Cody Hanes. Age twelve. Sixth grade. Moved here from Quebec earlier this year because his dad wanted to move after his mom died. Misses Canada and his mom a lot. Doesn't put much effort into speaking English. This is the happiest he's been in a while._

America's mind was swirling with all the different people around her and their backgrounds. Most nations hated it, but America was one of the few that loved the feeling of knowing who the people she was around were on a more personal basis.

Soon the fight ended, and the kids were all tired. America was tired as well, but it didn't show as she jumped to her feet and clapped her gloved hands.

"Hot chocolate anyone?"

The five neighborhood children all nodded enthusiastically and America held open her backdoor for them as they bounded in.

They seated themselves around her table, and America sighed upon seeing the familiar-and-yet-not image. Every time she came home (which wasn't all too often) kids from around the neighborhood usually ended up at her house sitting around her table.

And America really liked that.

She pulled out some cocoa powder and a few more ingredients, setting to work.

Michael hoisted himself up onto the counter next to the stove and watched as America took out a pot from the cupboard and a gallon of milk from the fridge.

"You don't just use packets?" he asked in amazement.

America laughed her obnoxious laugh and shook her head. "My hot chocolate's better than Nestle could ever make it."

"Not better than Ghirardelli, that's for sure," Michael said, watching her make the hot chocolate with a critical eye.

"Wanna bet?" America turned back to the pan, which was boiling.

Soon, six people were seated around America's dining table with large mugs, agreeing that her hot chocolate was awesome and complaining that the marshmallows in it had melted.

"So, what should we do now?" Sammy asked.

America shrugged, then came up with a plan to make Cody, who was looking pretty morose, feel better. "_What do you want to do?_" She asked in Polish.

"_You know Polish!_" Sammy jumped up and down. "_Really?_"

"_Yeah. And quite a few other languages too._"

"What's going on?" Annie asked from her position next to Cody.

"_I speak a lot of languages for work,_" America responded in Italian, looking at Annie's eyes widening with a smug look on her face.

"How many languages do you speak?" Annie asked. "Which ones?"

"Name one, I probably know it," America gulped more hot chocolate.

"French?" Cody asked, speaking for the first time.

"_Of course silly. I've been all over the place. Including Quebec._"

_"That's cool_," Cody said simply.

"Can we bake something?" Annie asked suddenly.

"Yeah!" Jimmy chimed in. "Can we can we can we?"

"Sure," America agreed easily. She didn't have a problem with it.

"But this brings in another problem!" Michael exclaimed.

"What?" Cody asked, clearly feeling a bit more comfortable. America felt bad for the kid. He was really alone and always felt left out.

"What do we make?"

"Cookies!" Jimmy yelled.

"I think we should make cupcakes," Sammy said.

"Yeah!" Cody agreed.

"What about pie?" Michael said softly.

"All of them?" America asked. "Then you can bring things home for Valentine's day."

"Yeah!" The neighborhood kids chorused.

...

"Alright guys, we're gonna need to go to the store. I'm out of chocolate chips."

"Whaaaattt?!" Jimmy exclaimed, as though this was a great horror. Which to him, it probably was.

America grinned. "It's only a couple blocks guys. Your parents won't mind, will they?"

"My mom says she trusts you. Oh right! She said that if I saw you, I should say hi for her. So, hi!" Annie said.

"My parents are good with it as well."

Sammy nodded in agreement. "So are mine."

Cody shrugged. "My dad said that since I'm in sixth grade and this is a small town, he trusts me well enough."

"Awesome!" America cheered. "Let me just grab some cash and we can write a quick list before we go."

It took a few minutes of America calling out ingredient names followed by scrambled searching for said ingredients before they had a list.

America sighed. She loved spending the day with her people, especially the children.

She spent the rest of her Valentine's day with them until it was around five.

"Alright, bye guys. See you around! Cody, come by tomorrow if you can. You can meet my brother."

"Thanks Alfred."

"Yeah, thanks!" the kids chorused.

America watched as the group of kids took off down the street clutching tupperware containers full of Valentine's Day goodies.

She grinned and went inside to start cleaning up her kitchen.

...

The doorbell rang just as she was drying off the last dish.

_God, I hate dishes._

She trotted to the door and pulled it open, ineffectively trying to dry her hands on the damp dishtowel on the way to the door.

Prussia was there, a large bouquet of red roses in his hands and a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Happy Valentine's Day America!" He shoved the roses at her semi-gracefully and stepped inside out of the snowy weather.

"Hey bro! Happy Valentine's day to you too! What're you doing here?" Prussia followed her into the kitchen as she went to put the flowers in a vase.

"Well, according to Hungary and seconded by Poland, a girl should never be alone on Valentine's Day. So the awesome me is here to take you out to dinner and have an awesome time."

America grinned. "Didja get reservations?"

"What, you think I'm stupid? Of course. Now get dressed. Something girly."

"...Sorry, what?"

"Go girly yourself up. No nations are gonna see you but me, and the ordinary people that see you won't realize who you are."

"I have neighbors that would recognize me Prussia."

"Then it's an awesome thing that it's a long drive to the restaurant then, isn't it?"

America looked at him for a bit longer, debating internally and trying to calculate the risk.

"Come on America, trust me."

"..."  
He made a puppy face. "Please?"

"..."

He got down on his knees. "Look, I'm begging you. Please go out for dinner with me?"

"This isn't a date, is it?" America asked suspiciously.

_If it is, I'm killing him, Poland, and Hungary. No survivors._

Prussia looked taken aback. "No. You're my awesome little schwester. Not a date. You just should have a good time on Valentine's day for once."*

"Hungary threatened to hit you with a frying pan if you didn't make sure I had fun tonight, didn't she?"

"... Maybe..."

America smiled. "Fine. I don't think I have a dress though."

Prussia brightened. "I have one in the car. Hang on." He ran back out for his luggage. America rolled her eyes and followed, helping him bring in his things.

"It'll need to be ironed a bit, but I think it'll work. Poland got it, so, yeah."

America looked the blue dress over. "Fine."

She took it into her room, looking it over nervously. She hadn't worn a dress in a long time. America plugged in the straightener and ironed the dress carefully before undressing and pulling off the bindings. It was a very pretty dress. The top was in a classic Grecian style, where the blue fabric would sit gracefully on her chest from higher points on both of her shoulders. The middle of the dress went in rather sharply, and than flared out beautifully. There was a simple white sash for around her waist.

_Well, here goes nothing._

America pulled the dress on. It fit perfectly.

_I don't know whether to thank Poland or punch him._

_My hair. Umm. Awkward shortness and guyishness._

America rummaged through her things, trying to remember where she'd stuck her small, hidden collection of old jewelry and hair clips from past first ladies.

_Maybe I can sorta-curl the end of my hair around my fingers while I look. Worth a shot._

She looked with her right hand while her left twirled her hair without a clue what it was doing.

Finding the small wooden box, America pulled out a little gold locket on a chain and put it on with a fair amount of swearing when it kept catching her hair.

Prussia knocked on the door.

"Hey America, I found this in my suitcase. I think Poland snuck it in or something. It says for me not to open it and to just give it to you. Can I come in?"

America opened the door and hid behind it, sticking an arm around the side. Grasping the little bag he had given her, she then shut the door.

"Well then. That wasn't very awesome," she heard Prussia say and she rolled her eyes before opening the bag.

_Makeup._

_Are you fucking serious?_

_Nope, that would be Lupin.*_

_I need a new brain._

Prussia was bored. He knew America was a girl and all, but he figured that she'd been living as a man for so long that she wouldn't take a goddamned half-hour to get ready.*

America opened the door and yelled down the stairs.

"Dude, I know Poland too well. Where the hell are the shoes he snuck into your bag?"

"Touchy," Prussia muttered as he chucked the shoes up the stairs.

"You are so lucky they didn't break anything asshole."

"Why the hell are you so mad?"

"I've never spent so long getting ready in my life! And I'm wearing makeup! I haven't worn makeup since that time like, forever ago when Poland and Hungary tied me to a chair and forced me to learn to apply it!"

"Oh."

"Yuh huh. And I don't have any pockets," America grumbled as she thunked down the stairs, somehow managing to make loud stomping noises in a pair of sparkly silver flats.

"Woah?"

"What?"

Prussia poked her. "What the hell did you do to yourself?"

"Do I look that bad?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Then let's go. I'm starving."

Prussia followed her out to her driveway, trying to figure out how to tell her that she looked drop-dead awesome without her thinking that he was lying. America suddenly turned and ran back in, grabbing her bomber jacket and her car keys.

"I thought we were going take my rental?" Prussia asked.

America rolled her eyes and stuck the keys in the ignition of her old black pickup truck. "Get in the truck."

Prussia shrugged and did so.

"Where to?"

Prussia gave her the address, and America started driving. It wasn't that she was a bad driver (She was better than Prussia in any case), but she definitely didn't give a shit about what other drivers might think of her skills. Scratch that, she was a terrible driver, her skills best described as a NYC taxicab with NASCAR speed and the precision of a hyperactive two year old with scissors. With equal danger to the well-being of herself as said two year old. Prussia, however, being used to bad driving, merely laughed and counted all the middle fingers they got with glee.

Arriving at the restaurant, Prussia suddenly realized something. "You can't drink. How unawesome."

"Bitch please," America smirked, holding up an ID.

Prussia took it, seeing that the date on it made her twenty-two.

"Nice," he said, handing it back to her.

America found a spot and turned to him after parking.

"Let's go bro!"

Entering the dimly lit and well-decorated steakhouse, Prussia headed straight to the hostess stand.

"Reservation for Awesome."

America cracked up. The hostess gave a smile of her own and said, "Right this way sir."

"Ooh, you're a sir now, huh?" America laughed to Prussia.

"You still sound like a guy." Prussia responded as they sat down and the hostess left.

America screwed up her face in concentration and moved around her mouth like she was trying to make "Finding-Nemo-esque" whale sounds.

"Better?" she asked in her real voice. It was a bit softer and infinitely more feminine, and it suited her better while dressed as she was.

"Yeah. Matches your hair."

"Fuck off."

Their waiter came and asked what they wanted to drink. Prussia got a beer and America went with a coke.

"Can't go wrong with a coke." America said.

"Unless you wanna get drunk."

"Yep. Unless that."

They looked over the menu for a bit and ordered their food the second the waiter came back with their drinks.

"Thanks Tim," America said.

"How'd you know his name- Oh, name tag. I'm an idiot."

America laughed, a higher, slightly prettier but still delightfully and equally obnoxious version of her usual laugh. "Wow, you finally admitted it."

"That was just an unawesome fluke."

"Oh, a glitch in the matrix?"

"Yes."

America had never done anything like this. Sure, she'd been to fancy dinners and stuff, but she'd never actually sat down with a friend and just talked over a nice dinner while feeling, well, pretty. Usually when she was with friends on non-meeting occasions, she was in jeans and an old t-shirt, sitting on the ground with either pocky or a lollipop falling out of her mouth as she yelled at the TV while trying to get as far as she could in the level without dying.

_Or fries actually. I should really stop eating them while playing video games. It just wastes them. Great, now I really want fries._

They talked for a while, and then their food arrived. America debated on whether she should try to act polite while eating or just eat normally.

_Normally. I like steak too much to take my time._

Needless to say, the two finished their food much faster than the average restaurant patron. America snagged one of Prussia's pieces of broccoli.

"You finished already?"

"Uh, yeah." America grinned and popped the broccoli in her mouth.

"So we can get dessert here," Prussia said.

"Or we can go back to my house and eat all the baking I did earlier today while playing some video games."

"I like that plan."

"Yep. More comfy, and I made apple pie."

"...Really?"

"Yeah."

"You aren't lying like last time?"

_Haha, he totally fell for that last time. _

"No. I have apple pie in my fridge. Homemade by me, and ready to be eaten with a lot of ice cream and carmel sauce."

"You're the best sister ever."

"Don't I know it."

_Should that be said in a questioning tone of voice or not? Hmm. Cause we both know that I know I'm awesome, but it seems to be phrased kinda like a question. Oh wow there's a squirrel crossing that busy street out the window. It's so brave, running out like that. I hope it survives..._

_ What was I thinking about again? _

Prussia paid the bill. America tried to pay for a bit, but Prussia pointed out that she was supplying dessert and driving and she relented.

They got home much faster than they legally should have and America jumped out of the truck. "These shoes hurt like hell!" she exclaimed. "I can't wait to take them off!"

"America," Prussia said.

"Yeah?"

"Before you do, I just want you to know."

"Know what?"

"You look really, really, awesome and pretty."

America turned a bright shade of red. "Naw. If I were pretty, I wouldn't be able to pass myself off as a guy so well."

Prussia rolled his eyes and dragged her into her house. Or rather, tried too. Her door was locked. America grinned smugly and pulled out a star-spangled key with a bald eagle printed on it and unlocked the door.

Prussia dragged her to her hall mirror.

"Alright look," he said.

"What?"

"Start with your hair. It's all curl nicely. It looks awesome."

America's hair was slightly curled at the end and there was a beautiful little star-shaped glittering clip in it, holding Nantucket down to the side.

_I suppose it doesn't look that bad._

"Then you did something to your eyes that make them look all gold and glittery. That looks awesome as well."

"The word you're looking is shimmery."

_I did a pretty good job with my makeup didn't I? Especially considering I haven't done it in forever._  
"You have a girly body, you just always have to hide it. America, you're a very pretty girl, awesome, and you need to have a bit more self confidence as who you are and not just as who you show yourself to other people, okay?"

"Thanks Prussia."

"Now can I have apple pie?"

America grinned. "Let me go stick on some PJs and then I'll put it in the oven to heat up. You go pick out a game."

And until the wee hours of the morning, the two of them played horribly violent video games, ate a tremendous amount of sweet foods, and joked around.

When Canada came in at noon for his and America's annual "forever alone" party, he found a living room covered in cookie and cupcake crumbs as well as some empty chip bags and a few cans of beer. Prussia was sliding halfway off of one leg of the L-shaped couch, and America was snoring and upside-down-hanging-off-of the other one. An Xbox controller was trapped beneath Prussia and America's controller was on her face.

Canada laughed. Then he stole a cookie and went to get a bowl of warm water so he could try to make one of them pee themselves.

*American Ride by Toby Keith. It's pretty entertaining, even if it is Country.

*German word for sister, just in case you didn't know. I had to look it up.

*A reference to the pairing Sirius/Lupin from Harry Potter. Serious and Sirius pun as well. If you aren't in the fandom, there you go.

*This is, of course, Prussia being an idiot and not realizing that a great majority of girls would take a hell of a lot longer than that. And America having no experience at all and not realizing that if she wanted to, she could make Prussia wait for at least an hour. Ah, the cruel way of girls when dinner is involved.


End file.
